


The Chronicles of the Dark One:  Breaking the Curse

by Montreat11



Series: The Chronicles of the Dark One [5]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 47
Words: 90,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Montreat11/pseuds/Montreat11
Summary: Casting the curse was only the beginning. Breaking the church is an entirely different story. 5th in The Dark One Chronicles, a series that examines the life of Rumpelstiltskin. This fiction features everything that happened in Storybrooke during season one, from Rumple waking up after Emma's arrival to bringing magic into the Land Without Magic. R/R.
Relationships: Belle & Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Prince Charming | David Nolan/Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard
Series: The Chronicles of the Dark One [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1360273
Comments: 66
Kudos: 32





	1. Old in the New

Emma...

"What a lovely name."

And he meant it. Considering how long he'd been waiting, how long he'd been dreaming of this exact moment, the things he'd done to get here…at the moment, it was the most beautiful word he'd ever heard.

"Thanks," the Swan, Emma, responded with a shrug.

This was right. This was perfect. It was exactly the way it was meant to be, exactly the way he'd seen it in his vision! Him, the Swan, Granny, all exactly where they were supposed to be. Right place, right time. He wanted to cry.

But suddenly, there was a frantic sound coming from Granny's direction that shifted his attention, at least partially. To Rumpelstiltskin, it was a sound reminding him that he was not alone in the room with Ms. Swan. To Mr. Gold, it was the familiar sound of an old wooden draw being opened. He managed to take his eyes off the girl just long enough to see Granny handing him a thick roll of bills. Money. From this world. Lots of it. The rent.

Because he was not alone in the room with Ms. Swan, but he was alone in his awareness of their situation.

"It's all here," Granny insisted in a stern voice.

"Yes, yes, of course, it is, dear. Thank you." With barely a moment of hesitation, he stepped forward to accept the money. It was more of an instinct than an action.

His heart was pounding. His mouth was dry. His palms were sweating. And for the life of him, he couldn't stop smiling. This was possibly the most important moment of his life. But only for him. No one else in Storybrooke had used magic as he had. No one else would have been able to trigger themselves to wake up early. He was awake. The world was without magic, and just like eighteen years ago, he was without the Seer or the voices of the Dark One's in his head…but he didn't think he wanted anyone to know that. Not yet. Which meant he wasn't Rumpelstiltskin accepting a deal with Granny and her granddaughter Red. He was Mr. Gold, taking the rent from Widow Lucas and her granddaughter Ruby. Whether it was the biggest moment of his life or not, no matter how much he wanted to talk to the Savior and develop a strategy, it had to be just an ordinary night in Storybrooke. Until he had a strategy of his own, he had to follow his loop. He had to leave.

He took one final glance at the girl and, this time, managed not to smile too wide or be too friendly. Mr. Gold was never friendly, and he certainly never smiled anything other than sinister grins, even when he put on the show of being a salesman.

"You enjoy your stay,…Emma."

She didn't reply. He didn't give her time to reply. His legs felt like they were made of lead, but the pain in his ankle when he shifted his weight and moved about anchored him into this reality. With pain as his focus, he managed to walk to the door, give Red a final glance, and leave.

He wanted to go to the shop. It was where he was the first time the Curse broke, it was where he did all his best thinking, and it was where he wanted to be. But he couldn't go there.

Regina…he remembered the conversation he'd had with her about Henry when he'd been cursed. Mr. Gold had thought motherhood was getting to her at the time, but now Rumpelstiltskin recognized it as paranoia. Obviously, after that day, she hadn't sent Henry back, and he was oblivious as to what she was doing to keep the paranoia at bay, but he was confident how that Emma was here it would return. He knew enough of the gossip around town to know that the boy was on to the Evil Queen. After ten years of aging and growing up while nothing around him changed, he'd realized there was something different about him and this place, even if he had nothing to compare it to. Regina would be wary of the Curse breaking. She'd be looking for things that were odd and out of place. So as much as it killed him, as much as he wanted to go to his shop and take stock and think just as he had the last time this had happened, he couldn't. He had to stick to his schedule. At least until he had a plan.

And so, once he was finally in his car, he drove home, just like he always did. He didn't even let himself drive by the Pawn Shop despite so desperately wanting to. Instead, he followed the same old route he usually did and pulled into the driveway of his home. It was too dark to see the rose paint job, but he'd seen it enough in the daylight to know the very shade of it. Great fondness…he'd had that feeling once when he'd first gotten a vision of this place what felt like eons ago. Now he knew it was a great fondness for being home he felt. A fondness that was surpassed only by the Shop. A strange realization came over him. He loved the Pawn Shop. It was far more his domain than the house was. He'd been working in the shop every day since they arrived in this town. There was a cot in the back for when he wanted to spend the night; he had memories of spending the night. And yet suddenly, he knew they were never true. He'd never spent the night at the shop. The Curse only tricked him into thinking he had. Just as it had given him a fondness for this house.

Was anything real?

Stick to the schedule. Once inside, he was aware that he was safer behind closed doors but perhaps not entirely. He'd had time to prepare for the Curse, time to make plans and stash his magic away; that was how he'd fixed the Snow White and Prince Charming situation eighteen years ago. He hadn't been with Regina often toward the end, but he had to assume that she'd had time to do the same. What magic she had, what power it gave her, that was all unknown. Eighteen years ago, given the trouble in town, he'd used his magic and not thought twice about it because he knew Regina had other things to worry about besides using her own magic to spy on him. Now, even though he was confident that she'd be using whatever she had to watch the Swan, Emma, he couldn't be sure. No magic. Unless he could account for Regina or until he was certain of what she had and her capabilities, or until he chose to reveal he had his memories, he couldn't use his magic. He had to stick to his schedule. And it seemed his body was going to make that easy for him.

Now that he was in his home, now that the door was closed behind him, he was aware of a growl in his stomach. He was hungry. And through his body, a sense of heaviness flowed in his veins as well. He was tired. He didn't want them, but he needed food, and he needed sleep. He was the Dark One, but with no ability to tap into his magic, it would appear that he was still utterly and completely human. He hated that. Especially when he tried to put weight on his bad foot and nearly lost his footing because of the pain. But things like hunger and sleep could be good for him at this time. It could keep him on the schedule so that if Regina did have a way to look into his house, she'd see only what was normal.

So, like normal, he stripped himself of his jacket and hung it up in the foyer so he'd remember to take it upstairs at the end of the day. He hobbled into the kitchen then, loosening his tie as he went. It was late. He was tired and eager to get to bed so that morning could come. Eggs. It wasn't anything fancy, but he had a couple of eggs in the refrigerator along with some leftover diced onions, some spinach, and cheese that still smelled fresh. He hated going to the grocery store; he usually sent one of his lackeys out the get what he wanted so that he could avoid it. In a few days, he'd send someone again to keep up appearances. For now, he would eat his scrambled eggs quickly so he could go to bed and…

As he leaned against the sink, plate and fork in hand, his attention was suddenly drawn to the hallway, to a stray thought Mr. Gold was aware of, but Rumpelstiltskin thought of as "interesting." His home was large. Regina had kept her promise, and aside from giving him land, she'd given him a large home that was opulent but unnecessary. Living Room, Family Room, Parlor, dining room, gourmet kitchen, five bedrooms, four and two half bathrooms, large yard, and a basement…that he'd never been able to access.

He'd never been in the basement. Living in this place, this house for twenty-eight years, with lying memories that stretched back farther, and none of them ever included the basement. The door was stuck. That was what he always told himself, or rather what Mr. Gold had told himself. He'd never really cared that it was stuck. The house was big enough, and since he was the only occupant, he did with it as he pleased, using the dining room and family room, even the extra bedrooms, all for storage. They were littered with things from every time Mr. Gold brought his work home with him. He never put anything in the basement.

"Stuck…" he wondered aloud. He set his dishes in the sink and reached into his pocket to grab his keys. He had one for everything. The house, the shop, the car, one for his own private cabin, and…one for the basement. The basement that was stuck. The basement that had always been stuck. But there was a memory in the back of his mind, one that he hadn't lived through personally and knew belonged to Gold, of putting the key in its place because he needed to keep it. The memory was false, he knew that, but he also knew this Curse. Everything in their heads was there for a reason. So why was this so important?

Holding his breath, he made it down the hall to the basement door. He inserted the key, turned it until he heard the lock snick, then put his hand on the knob, and turned.

Nothing.

The knob stayed perfectly in place. Unnaturally in place.

He pulled and pushed on the old door just for good measure.

Nothing.

Not a creak or a budge out of it; the wood didn't even warp. Which meant that it wasn't just stuck. It was more than that. It was magic. His basement door was touched by magic. His or Regina's…he didn't know. But he knew there was magic on it and always had been, for as long as he'd lived here. He'd just never known it before because Mr. Gold had never believed in such things. Which meant that he couldn't believe it now. He sighed as he palmed the key to the basement.

A plan. He needed a plan. A plan that would get the Swan to break the Curse entirely. A plan that would get him magic so he could figure out why there was magic on this door. A plan to get him back to Baelfire. A plan to get the Seer back in his head so he could start making effective plans again!

And until then…

The Savior was Ms. Emma Swan. Snow White was Mary Margaret. Prince Charming was David who, as far as he knew, or didn't know, was still in a coma and married to Katherine. And Regina, the Evil Queen, his beloved creation…Mayor Mills, adoptive mother to Henry Mills. Tonight he had to go to bed like always. Tomorrow he had to wake up at the same time he always did. He had to follow his routine. He had to go to work as usual. He had to deposit rent money in the bank.

And he needed to keep an eye on what was going on around town without looking like he was.

He needed a firm plan, but until he had one, he had to pretend it was business as usual.

Still, he let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes as a smile curved over his face.

"Emma Swan…" he muttered to himself, seeing her face clear as ever in his mind's eye. Almost automatically, he remembered the vision he'd seen of Emma and the Queen standing opposite one another, staring one another down, clear enemies from the moment the girl had been born all because of him. A plan centuries in the making was finally in its end game. Emma Swan was all grown up and back to break the Curse and set him on the road to his son. For that, he could pretend for as long as he had to.

He chuckled as he opened his eyes and glanced at the door to his left. He let his cane tap against the floor a couple of times, then finally righted himself.

Emma Swan...

"…a lovely name indeed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! For those of you that are just checking out this fiction, welcome! For those of you who are a fan of the Chronicles of the Dark One, welcome back! I hope you'll enjoy this fiction. It's the 5th in the Chronicles, a series that is an attempt at an accurate portrayal of Rumple's perspective during the Once Upon a Time series. This fiction features everything that happened in Storybrooke from the moment that Emma first arrives is "Welcome to Storybrooke" up to the moment that Rumple brings magic into the world in "The Land Without Magic". It is currently only "in progress" and will be updated every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday through Saturday.
> 
> The Dark One Chronicles is meant to be a companion series with The Moments Series, which explores Once Upon a Time from Belle's perspective. This means that everything you read in the Chronicles where Belle is concerned will show up in Moments as well. It is just told from a different point of view. If you'd like to see Belle's chapters from her perspective, The Chronicles of the Dark One: Breaking the Curse, in it's later chapters, is the companion story to Moments Seen and Unseen! You can find The Moments Series by checking out my profile.
> 
> If you enjoy this fiction, please leave kudos or a comment! I always enjoy those wonderful gems waiting for me in my inbox and I love writing back to thank you personally for reading! It helps me know that I'm doing a decent job! Peace and Happy Reading!


	2. Valuable Assets

Being human again was an inconvenience. He had his memories, and he knew there was magic out there in the world. He knew that he was one of the strongest creatures in all the world, if not the strongest. And yet, he was so tired he just wanted to melt back into his bed. Twenty-eight years he'd been here, twenty-eight years he'd been human, but his memories of that time, even if they had only been yesterday, were surrounded in a fog. He'd always gone to bed on time, always slept through the night, restlessly he could admit, but he'd always slept. And then he'd always risen the next morning at the crack of dawn, showered, eaten his breakfast, and gone to work with nothing on his mind but the promise of a hard day's labor at the shop.

But last night and this morning reminded him what it was to be human because he hadn't slept. When he was awakened years ago, he hadn't had any time to truly consider what that meant because he'd been busy and then put himself back under again. Actually, now that he thought about it, he'd put himself back into the fog of the Curse just so that he could avoid this feeling until the time was right. Well, now the time was right. And he had no choice but to face it.

He'd laid in his bed last night, kept his eyes closed and his breathing steady just in case Regina could and wanted to look in on him with whatever magic she possessed. But he didn't sleep. He'd tried. He'd intended to fall asleep. But he hadn't. His mind had been filled with thought after thought all night. Desire to get up and go to the shop clawed at him. Worst of all, panic, the idea that Regina would somehow use her limited magic to look in on him and know he was no longer Mr. Gold, forced him to keep his eyes closed and his body still for eight long hours. By the time the sun was edging over the horizon the next morning, he was relieved to get out of bed but exhausted.

As the Dark One, an immortal with magic, he was capable of going years without sleep and never feeling it. Hell, he could count on one hand the number of times he'd slept in the Enchanted Forest once he became the Dark One. Now, one sleepless night had him feeling dizzy, sluggish. But he couldn't let it get to him. He wouldn't. No, as long as Regina was ignorant, he had to pretend he was too to keep control of this situation. He had to get the Curse broken, and he had to do it just right. Besides, his desire for sleep on this morning was overruled only by his desire to get to his shop.

Going through the motions of the morning felt painfully slow. Though his clocks told him that he showered, dressed, ate breakfast, and departed in his car all right on schedule, he felt like they'd taken twice as long as they normally did. He was antsy and probably would have hobbled down the street into his shop twice as fast as he usually did if not for...the pointing. It was subtle. There were no large crowds gathered, no signs, or even celebrations, but as he strode down the street, past the people he always walked by, he was aware of the whispers. "It's working again", "it's started", "the clock, did you hear it?" At the crosswalk he noticed the faces and fingers and pointing into the sky and followed their gazes.

Well, he'd be damned. The clocktower, the one that had been perpetually frozen at 8:14 since they got here, a subtle reminder to no one that time didn't move in this place…it was working. And he felt positive it wasn't because Regina had decided to send a worker up there to start it again. Magic. He felt the corners of his mouth lift in a small smile of victory. Premature? Perhaps. But that was a good sign. Emma had been here only a day, and that was the effect it was having on the magic in Storybrooke. Happiness rose up inside of him at the sight…until his eyes drifted down the dilapidated building, and his smile faded into a sneer.

He'd been stuck on repeat for twenty-eight years, so he knew his role well. He knew this was the part of his morning where he usually glanced at the library, at its uselessness, with disgust. It was an eyesore, a waste of space, that was what Mr. Gold always had believed. But now he saw it with fresh new eyes, and the result was a searing cut into his soul, or at least the little of it that was left. He swallowed hard and crossed the street quickly, unlocking the door to the shop. There were many things he wanted to check on now that he was here, but with the shadow of the library looming behind him, he was automatically pulled toward an object he kept in the back of the shop, too broken for Mr. Gold to display and get a price from even though it was only chipped.

Emotion thickened his throat as he held the teacup in his hands, the cool surface soothing his skin from the heat of memories. Chipped…but you could hardly see it…that comment had once saved his former servant a tongue lashing. Now it was that chip that saved the teacup from Storybrooke, from having a home anywhere but his own. He was lucky for that. He had nothing else of Belle, his Belle, save this cup. That made it more precious than gold. He swallowed his tears as he set it back up on the shelf he kept it, no longer a broken relic but rather a priceless treasure. Now he knew why that library had been empty all these years. It was missing her. Just like he was.

But not like Maurice. His name was Moe French here. And he was no King as he had been before, but rather the owner of a poorly run flower shop called Game of Thrones. He had no wife. He had no children. His business was failing. In fact, he had just taken out a new loan with him to save that business. It was due later this year, and Mr. Gold knew, which meant Rumpelstiltskin did too, that it looked as though he wasn't going to be able to pay it back. When he thought of that empty library, when he looked up at the teacup, when he remembered how Regina had told him Belle had met her fate, he smiled at the possibility that defaulting loan might bring.

But revenge was something he needed to contemplate later. Now he had to take stock of his assets. His memory was just one of those assets. As far as he was concerned, so was his teacup, but the rest…

Bae's shawl was there. It was stashed away at the bottom of a drawer of polishing cloths. It was intact. He'd never used it, never gotten to the bottom of the drawer to use it. Now he pulled it out and held it gently in his hands, lifted it to his nose, and inhaled. It still smelled like his son, even after all these years. Or, at least it smelled like he used to. He was suddenly very aware that he'd done what he'd set out to do so long ago. He was in the same world that his son was. Somewhere in this land, his son was breathing the same air, sharing the same earth, living under the same sky. He had no idea if he'd smell the same as he did the last time he'd worn this shawl. But he was going to find out.

With that thought driving him, for the next hour, he went through his shop, taking stock and inventory like he never had before. He made note of things that were around the last time he'd woken and things he hadn't as well and was pleased to find that his spell appeared to have worked. It was hard to keep track of it all, but he knew most of what he'd enchanted was still with him here, at least the important items were.

David's sword, the one he'd pulled from an umbrella stand and stolen after they'd had their encounter, wasn't where it once was, but he knew the second he thought about it where to look. In a small cabinet under the shelves, there was a long thin case, one he'd placed the sword in after it had been stolen.

The key to the golden egg that he'd crafted and had David hide within Maleficent, it was stashed away in the backroom, hidden in a drawer of other tiny keys that had no locks and rings that had no fingers.

On and on he went, locating treasure after treasure and a few extras he hadn't meant to take along for the ride. The boat Snow White had once used to come to find him, the one he'd joked with her about buying, it was now hidden up in the rafters. The necklace that once belonged to Anna of Arendelle sat in a display case, still burned and fractured. Bo Peep's staff, of all things, was leaning against the wall. The globe, the one that mapped out this world that he'd seen before in his visions, was in the back room, along with two spinning wheels and the bow that he'd taken from Robin Hood. The fairy wands he'd collected because he'd once seen a vision of six of them in a row sitting on a shelf…the shelf was here. They sat properly lined up as he'd once seen them atop his glass case in the shop.

The Black Fairy's wand was missing. It was the first object that he'd searched for that he came up empty-handed on. He leaned against his table when he realized it and thought back to the last time he'd seen it, but it had been a while, and the memory that came to mind didn't feature the fairy wand, but rather another fairy entirely. The Blue Fairy. He could remember sitting in the cell that had been crafted for him and feeling a tug at his magic, a warning that the Blue Fairy had been on his property. The door to his tower had been sealed off, but not the windows. With no means to go and defend it at the time, he'd had no choice but to let her pillage and plunder. She could have taken the wand back then. If she'd known what was coming, as so many others had, then he'd bet that she protected it somehow, used her magic to ward it against ending up here.

The wand wasn't the only thing missing. Pandora's Box was nowhere to be found either. Though, he couldn't be certain that had anything to do with the Black Fairy. He couldn't even be certain it was missing! Back home, at his castle, he'd placed special precautions around that box. Recognizing its potential danger, he'd used his magic to create a hidden chamber beneath the floor of the box. He'd used Belle's cup as the key and a small saucer in the kitchen cabinet as the lock. The kitchen cabinet and the saucer were conveniently in the back of the shop, but when he set the cup down upon the saucer, nothing happened. Was that because the box was elsewhere? Because it had been left behind? Or simply because this realm had no magic to spare on opening a chamber for it.

He didn't have an answer. But the reason he was awake now was to give himself a head start in working toward that answer. He had to bring magic back to Storybrooke. So that he could find Baelfire. And what sat in the back of the cabinet would help him with that. In a small wooden box, perfectly matched for it, was a dagger. His dagger. The dagger of the Dark One. He recognized it perfectly by its shape by his name. His true name, "l" before "e", was still engraved upon it. He'd never thought that was odd. Somewhere in the shop, he had a card identifying it as a rare dagger created in 18th century Germany. Fortunately for him, Mr. Gold had deemed the dagger too rare to sell and wanted it for his own private collection. It had never been on display. That alone had him heaving a sigh of relief as he placed it back in the box and returned it to its space in the cabinet.

It was well past lunchtime when he finished taking inventory. And suddenly, in the front room of his shop, the bell over his door rang out, and familiar heavy footsteps entered.

It started now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have the conclusion of the "inventory" that we spoke of in the last ficlet. This is the time Rumple can sort of look around his shop and realize exactly what he has. And, like in the last fiction, he doesn't go to actually touch everything he has, doesn't even lay eyes on it, just sort of acknowledges that he has the knowledge of where things are located. Though, I did try to make it telling as to which items he does go to and pick up and touch. It sort of tells you what is important to him. There are a lot of fun little Easter Eggs in this chapter. There's a callback, of course, to what was discussed in TDOC:SM, with the idea that the library across the street, abandoned and empty, is sort of part of his curse. And, of course, we have the appearance of Bae's Shawl and Belle's cup and some other items of note. We also finally know why he felt the Blue Fairy in his castle at the end of TDOC:TDC. I had to figure out a way to get the Black Fairy Wand out of his possession and back to the Blue Fairy since it's obvious that she has it in season 3. That was the best way to do it.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter, happy to have you back and reading! I hope that you'll enjoy this fiction. It's...it's interesting. Certainly unlike anything I've ever written before, and for that reason, I appreciate it in a very different way than anything else. This fiction starts slow before it finally picks up a bit around 1x12. This is because Rumple isn't so much a main character in Storybrooke as he is a supportive character, which was probably done to keep us, the viewers, guessing whether he was Rumple or Gold. So, for that reason, there's not so much action with Rumple as there is internal processing. This is an interesting fiction because we get to see Rumple living with contradictions. He's the Dark One, but without magic, he's still human. He's the most powerful creature on Earth, but he has no magic. He's essentially conducting the breaking of the Curse, but he's got to do it from the shadows, so he's not seen by Regina and Emma. It was a fascinating fiction to write, and I hope that you'll enjoy it. Up next, we find out who just came into the store. Any guesses? Peace and Happy Reading!


	3. Keep Your Associates Close

Right on time, just like he always did after the rent was collected, Gold's favorite associate walked into his store with a blue duffle bag in one hand.

"Brought you the rent," he muttered, setting it up on the glass case between them before taking off his sunglasses. He opened the bag to find Mr. Gold's favorite thing in the world. Money. Heaps of it. There was a small pouch for the personal checks, just like always, but for the most part, it was cash; bills that he knew his associate had spent the night already counting and bundling in exact amounts, neatly for him. On top was a piece of paper with names, amounts, checks, and various sums on it. He smiled as he looked at it. He was going to enjoy ruling Regina's world.

"Thank you, Mr. Dove," he grinned, finally looking up into a face he hadn't seen properly in decades.

Remy Dove…not Pirithous. Not the son of Theseus and Mary, heir to their Kingdom, no, not here. Here he was the son of Theodore and Maria. And here Theodore and Maria were not King and Queen but rather retired, living in a high-end retirement home free of charge, because of their son's connection to him. He allowed it for this very reason. Whether he was Pirithous, shapeshifter, or Remy Dove, well-muscled intimidator, he served his purposes. And that deal he'd made with Theseus all those years ago, it had secured him the loyalty that he couldn't easily acquire, loyalty he was going to need as he continued in his journey here in Storybrooke. Of course, here, that loyalty came with a price that he was always happy to pay.

Before he zipped the bag up, he reached inside and removed a bundle of money he knew would contain $2000. He knew it would contain exactly that because it if didn't, Mr. Dove knew that he'd come and find him, probably with one of Dove's equally large, easily bought cousins. Dove's loyalty could be bought cheap, his own, on the other hand, that was priceless.

"For your continued loyalty," he smiled, handing it over to his associate.

"Until the end," he commented, taking it. "Here for anything you need, Mr. Gold."

"Indeed," he muttered. Now that he thought about it, he rather preferred Dove to Pirithous. He was less curious and mouthy and far more compliant than his counter-part. "Were there any issues this month?"

"Nope. Had a few that didn't want to pay…I convinced them it was in the best interests of their health."

Ah. There were always a few who complained. Mr. Gold, much like himself in the Enchanted Forest, never really cared for their excuses. He left Dove to deal with it as he saw fit. If they didn't want to complain but had the money, he tended to "remind them of their health," if they truly couldn't pay, then Dove heard their sad stories and brought the summarized version back to him, where he offered them deals they often couldn't refuse.

The Curse suddenly left him breathless as he realized just how much like himself Mr. Gold was. It was a masterpiece, truly it was. The Curse had changed a lot, but it appeared there was more that stayed the same. He was Mr. Gold. And he was Rumpelstiltskin. He was both—a clever way to think of it and a smart thing to remember given his current situation.

"Very good. I'll do the books and have it ready for you to pick up tomorrow to take to the bank. I'll give you the other half of your pay when the job is done."

"As always, Sir."

As always. That was the routine. He needed to stick to his routine. His. Not Gold's, but his. Rumpelstiltskin Gold, he could be that person.

"Anything else for me?"

Dove smiled and leaned against the glass count. "Have you heard of the new girl in town?"

"I have, actually, but funny you should mention it. Out of curiosity, what have you heard?"

Dove shrugged. "Scarlet says she's staying at Granny's. I hear she rented a room for a week. Word on the street is that she's the biological mother of Mayor Mills' son. You helped her with that, can you confirm?"

Scarlet…Will Scarlet, one of the town hooligans that Dove had a tendency to hang around with in his time off. He always had money, but as far as he knew, he didn't have a job other than helping Granny out at the diner on occasion. Everyone in town seemed to know that he was engaged in less than legal activity though he never seemed to be arrested. Not that it mattered to him, the man paid his rent on time, and he'd never asked him for legal advice, so he had nothing against the boy. And what Dove did on his own time was his own business. He wasn't his father, and nor was he Scarlet's. But Dove, keeping his eyes and ears open for important information he might profit from, and Scarlet, who was apparently an observant man, often had information that Dove could pass along. Like him or not, the situation worked for him. If only he knew who the hell the man was in their realm, he might feel a bit better about trusting. But, he supposed, that so long as Scarlet had no memories of his former life, then he was only who he was now. An insignificant detail in his associate's life.

As to the rest of what Dove had said, what he was asking now…he couldn't give away all his secrets that easily.

"I served as her lawyer Mr. Dove, which makes that information confidential. It would be clumsy of me to confirm it."

"But you can't deny it," he raised his eyebrows in interest.

"Couldn't say one way or another," he shrugged, purposefully leaving him to draw the proper conclusion. "What else do you hear on the matter?"

"Just that the girl is worried about the boy. He ran away to Boston, and now she wants to make sure he's 'okay' or something like that. I suppose she thinks that she can do that in one week."

"How optimistic."

"Yeah. Mayor is on edge, though. She wants the girl gone."

He paused and took a breath. There was at least one thing he wanted to hear. "'On edge,' you say? How so?"

"You know that apple tree the Mayor keeps at her offices? Supposedly the new girl took a chain saw to it a bit ago."

"Supposedly?"

"Haven't seen it personally. I just hear things."

Yes. And there was the problem with no magic in this world. Dove didn't know it, but he'd once been the perfect spy. The mind of a human in the body of a dove, he'd easily been able to insert himself into almost any situation inconspicuously and deliver to him report after report of accurate firsthand knowledge. He'd seen and heard everything.

But now, here he was. Grounded. He was "dove" only in name in this place. He could no longer hide out amid branches and spy has he once had. He was limited to what he heard from friends for news, and his ability to be somewhere and watch was minimal compared to what it had been. But still, with his notoriety around town, not to mention his ankle, Dove could at least get some of it done better than he could. He'd have to live with that for now.

"Before you go, there is one last thing I'd like to discuss. It's a small job in addition to your current duties but obviously comes with an appropriate pay increase as long as I'm kept happy."

"Always happy to help in any way I can, Sir."

Of course, he was. He just didn't know why.

"I want you to keep an eye on the girl. Keep your ears open where she is concerned, keep me in the loop with anything you should hear or see regarding her."

"You smelling something fishy, Boss?"

"My reasons are my own. You know better than to ask questions like that."

Dove shrugged in agreement and took a step away from the counter. "Consider it done. I'll be in touch with your requested information, and I'll be back tomorrow to take your payment to the bank."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Dove. As always."

"Same to you," he waved before slipping his glasses back on and heading out the door.

He smiled as he took a look around the empty shop, at all the artifacts he'd spent his time gathering and collecting and sorting through. This shop was his treasure trove. It was filled with assets that would help him break this Curse and get back to Baelfire. But while he was taking stock of those assets, he'd be a fool not to consider Dove one of the greatest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is why I created Theseus and Pirithous in TDOC:TDC. This entire season is the reason those characters and their family exist. This is why they made the deal they did. This is why they are necessary. "Dove" as he's known in this fiction...I can't tell you how important he is in this fiction. You may not "see" him all the time, but you will hear from him and his cousins ALL the time. Because in a World Without Magic, the Dark One is limited. He's a public figure who is recognizable, not to mention he has a very limiting limp. It was obvious to me even at the beginning of writing TDC that Rumple needed some kind of help in season one Storybrooke. He was going to need eyes and ears and a body he didn't have. Dove, and his family, were the answer to everything. As this fiction evolves, you'll see what I mean.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your lovely comments on the last chapter! I'm so happy that you enjoyed it. I'm hoping that you'll enjoy this chapter as well. Not only do we finally see Rumple come to that beautiful "I am both" conclusion that the others are going to go through next season, but we also get a little surprise at the mention of Will Scarlet. I figured that Rumple had to have some familiarity with him from the way he behaved in season 4B. This was a great way to insert him without giving the pair of them too much history. In fact, I sort of give a sly smile every time I realize that in this chapter, he's like, "oh, Will Scarlet, nothing to worry about." If only the Seer were talking... Peace and Happy Reading!


	4. And Your Enemies Closer

It turned out that whether Dove had wings or legs, he was still a remarkable asset. After his accomplice had left the shop, he had dutifully taken his bag of money into the back. He pulled out a thick black ledger off of one of the shelves and began to count the money. He worked on the books, just as he'd told Dove he would do, just as he always did. But this time, throughout the day, text message after text message came in. It began to paint a picture in his mind that made him smile with pride as he realized he was going to like this Emma Swan.

"Rumors are true," Dove wrote. "She was arrested earlier today for stealing Henry's file from Doctor Hopper's office. Mary Margaret Blanchard bailed her out. She cut down the tree branch after that. She's no longer welcome at Granny's, something about a 'no felon rule.'"

He'd barely had time to smirk at that convenient rule he was certain Regina had only just now decided to enforce when his phone buzzed with a picture notification. It was a picture of the apple tree outside the Mayor's office. Usually prim and elegant, it was obvious that one limb had clearly been hacked away by an ax or a chainsaw, perhaps. The branch lay on the ground along with a dozen or so apples scattered around it. The image nearly took his breath away. But this time, it wasn't because of Emma Swan, at least not entirely. It was because he'd seen that scene before, once a long time ago.

In the Enchanted Forest, in his original vision, he'd gotten a flash of Regina and the Swan, Emma, in clothes that were not of their land, facing off with one another. They'd stared one another down with hatred and determination in their eyes, two enemies, a villain, and a hero: the Cursemaker and the Cursebreaker. Behind them, in that vision, they'd been standing in front of a tree…an apple tree with a limb cut off.

As a chill swept through him, he crawled back through his messages and reread the part about Mary Margaret bailing Emma out of jail. Mary Margaret, Snow White. Mother and daughter had been reunited and maybe even formed some sort of bond somehow. He had no idea how or why, but he knew Mary Margaret. Here, the timid school teacher was shy and less than confident. She was a far cry from the queen and bandit she'd once been, no doubt by Regina's design. For Mary Margaret to want to do something like post bail for the woman who had stolen the files for the Mayor's son…that wasn't something she'd usually do. But it was interesting, so very, very interesting.

He knew what he had to do. He'd spend all day thinking about it. From the moment he'd gotten the picture from Dove, all the while he'd worked on the books and counted the money, even as he packed himself up to go home that evening and made a few adjustments to his shop. He'd come to the conclusion that he didn't need the Seer's help to break this Curse, that he didn't even need the voices of the other Dark Ones in his head. He could plan for the breaking of the Curse, he could navigate bringing magic to Storybrooke, but it was all going to start with one person: Emma Swan.

As if on cue, as he walked to his car that evening, he happened to spy Henry and Emma coming out of Archie's office, smiling together. The bug, Archie, personally saw them out, and they checked their watches. It was too early for Henry to be out of therapy, and as forgiving as Marco's friend the cricket was, he knew that Archie wouldn't have that look about someone who had really stolen the file. That meant that Emma and Henry spending time together was an action that was being sanctioned and encouraged by a man who always valued truth and honesty. And the fact that watches were checked…Archie wanted them back before Regina arrived and could find out.

That action alone was confirmation that he was about to make the right decision. In order for the Curse to be broken, sides would be taken, alliances would be formed, enemies made. He'd needed to choose his sides carefully in the Enchanted Forest, playing different sides to make sure the Curse was cast. Here, trying to break the Curse, it would be a lot easier. The vision he'd had in the Enchanted Forest made sense. Now, there was Regina's side, and there was Emma's side. Victory, this time around, would be found on Emma's side, and nowhere else.

As he watched the pair happily walk down the street, his eyes were drawn to the clocktower. Aside from the abandoned library, the sight of that still working clock lifted his spirits and his hopes. Whether she was currently capable of using magic or not, her arrival in Storybrooke had already worked some magic here. That magic was only going to grow. He wanted to be a part of it.

It was time for an allegiance change. That fact weighed heavier on him than he thought it would, but it was understandable. He'd trained Regina. He'd taught her everything she knew, relied on her, spent hundreds of years investing in her so that she'd cast the Curse and get him to where he was today. But now they were here; the Curse was cast. Now, his life had to be about breaking that Curse, or else he'd never be able to leave and find Bae. So yes, that meant it was time to change his allegiance. It was time to champion the Savior. It was time to start rooting for Emma Swan.

Once, he'd sought to ensure a terrible war between Snow White and the Evil Queen, and now he wanted to ensure one between the Mayor and the mother of her child. But this wasn't like crafting a war for Regina. This was creating a fight for Emma. He knew little about her, only having been in the room with her one time since she'd arrived, but the fact that she'd stayed and defaced the apple tree after Regina had her arrested and kicked out of her room at Granny's told him enough. She was fiery. She was strong and determined, and that was without whatever magical qualities she possessed. He'd known types like her before. The more support she had, the more she fought against Regina, the stronger she would get. So what was he to do?

Create support by creating unrest. Regina didn't have many friends here, he wasn't even convinced the Sheriff liked her, and he shared her bed, though he had no idea why he was sure. He had to foster hatred and fear of Emma in Regina. By doing that, Regina would push Emma. Emma would push back. The town would sense the war; they'd rally behind her, the Savior would grow stronger, the Curse would break. He could go find Baelfire.

And for that, he knew exactly what he had to do. He had to create instability for Regina. He didn't want Regina to know he had his memories, not yet…knowledge was power. But suspicion, on the other hand, was born of fear. And fear bred weakness. Weakness created instability.

With Regina assuming Henry was still at therapy, he knew right where to find her. He didn't make it into the Mayor's office at Town Hall; he didn't have to go that far. He smiled as he found her in the garden, tending to the tree that Miss Swan had defaced. The branch was gone, the apples picked up, the tree looking nearly perfect again. But the fact that Regina was the one tending to it…Emma had gotten under her skin. Beautiful.

"What a mess," he commented, alerting her to his presence.

"Not for long. What could I do for you, Mr. Gold?"

"I was just in the neighborhood. Thought I'd pop by. Lovely to see you in such high spirits," he stated before she could pick up on the fact that he never just "popped by," especially not to check on her, not unless he had something he needed or she needed of him.

As he circled her tree, Regina laughed. "Well, it's been a good day. I just rid the town of an unwanted nuisance."

He smiled. That was unlikely. In a way, he felt bad for Regina. If her wolf-spy was half as good as his bird-spy, then she might know that wasn't the case right now.

"Emma Swan. Really?" he paused, looking over the tree. Love her or hate her, that tree from their land did make the most delicious of apples. Probably second only to the apple that she'd fed her poor step-daughter once upon a time. He had an idea.

"Yes. I imagine she's half-way to Boston by now."

"Oh," he smiled, plucking one from the tree. "I wouldn't bet on that." Suddenly Regina turned, and the smile he'd heard in her voice gave way to darkness. "I just seen her strolling down the main street with your boy. Thick as thieves, they looked."

"What?"

"Perhaps you should have come to me," he suggested with a smile. Given their relationship, it was a suggestion in character for Mr. Gold, but if she happened to take the bait, he wouldn't regret it. It would give him an excuse to be closer to the situation. "If Miss Swan is a problem you can't fix, I'm only too happy to help. For a price, of course."

Regina chuckled. "I'm not in the business of making deals with you anymore."

He smiled as she turned from him. She really had made this all too easy. He wanted her on edge. He wanted her back to the Regina she'd been when she'd stormed into his shop after getting Henry because she'd figured out who or rather what his mother was. What ever happened to that fire, that knowledge and discomfort, he wasn't sure…but he wanted it back now. He wanted just a tease of it. And interestingly enough, Henry was the last deal she'd ever made.

"To which deal are you referring?" he questioned with perfect timing.

She turned back, her eyes wide, body trembling. He had a feeling that if he could hear her heart, it would have been pounding. Now she had fear. It wasn't much, just a hint. It was only a hint of what had been that might make her begin to question her power and this curse. "You know what deal."

"Oh, right. Yeah. The boy I procured for you." Her shoulders lowered in relaxation, and she turned back to her tree. She was relieved, and that meant it was the perfect time to stress her again. "Henry…did I ever tell you what a lovely name that was? How ever did you pick it?"

And there it was again. Tension. Just enough inflection in his voice to suggest he knew something, but not enough to confirm it. That was what he wanted. He wanted her to stay up late tonight, reliving those memories of panic from when she'd first gotten Henry, remembering what it felt like to think the girl was the Savior coming to break her curse. He wanted her to wonder if it was breaking and ask herself if the man she was talking to was Mr. Gold or her old tutor Rumpelstiltskin.

"Did you want her to come to town?" she questioned, rounding on him, her voice raised in exactly what he wanted to hear. Panic. "You wanted all this to happen, didn't you? Your finding Henry wasn't an accident, was it?"

He kept himself in check, showing not a trace of the curiosity and surprise on his face as he looked her over. They'd had this conversation before. Not exactly word for word, but close enough. She hadn't gotten answers from him then because he really hadn't known, he was cursed, and it was fate intervening on his behalf. But she…she should know. Why didn't she know?

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Where did you get him? Do you know something?"

"I have no idea what you're implying."

"I think you do," she bit back. "Who is this woman, his mother, this…Emma Swan?"

He smiled, suddenly feeling breathless and unable to hide the joy he found in her statement. If she was asking again, then she didn't know. Dammit. He was right. She did have magic. She'd used it on herself all those years ago, to erase the information from her mind. That was how she'd been able to raise Henry all these years without fear of his birth mother. That was why she'd stopped panicking after she'd come into his shop! His previous suspicions were confirmed. He had to be careful then. If she had magic and he didn't, he needed to tread very carefully. He might have already given away too much.

"I would say you think you know exactly who she is," he answered mysteriously. It was a statement that could easily go two ways. It could be translated that he assumed Regina had figured Emma Swan out already, judged her early on, and knew what she was dealing with. Of course, it could also be translated that if she was fearful that it was Snow White's daughter, she might want to act on that instinct. And he was happy to leave it at that.

"I really must be going," he turned to leave, but with his limp, he'd barely gotten a step in before Regina appeared in front of him again, cutting him off.

"Tell me what you know about her!"

Panic. That was good. Panic was good, but knowledge was bad. Panic kept her in a state of confusion, which would only serve him in the future. It meant that she wouldn't attack Emma directly because there was no proof that she was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. He wanted her to suspect but not to know. But maybe, a bit more suspicion…what was that deal they'd made back home?

"I'm not going to answer you, dear," he responded, giving her a hint that he might have known something more than he was saying. "So I suggest you excuse me. Please."

And there it was. He felt something shift in the air between them, something sizzle. Magic. The curse upholding itself and sparing magic to make sure the deal they made was upheld. And from the looks of it, Regina sensed it too. The drop of the jaw, the flush of her cheeks. It was just enough that it scared her. It made her question whether or not he remembered and whether or not it was because of Emma. He took a bite of his apple and moved around the Mayor. She didn't follow, didn't ask any more questions.

And he smiled to himself as he tossed the apple over his shoulder and left her with a head full of suspicions and fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another familiar scene, this one from 1x02, and it was really very fun to write this one. Rumple clearly doesn't have a plan in place yet, but he's getting to the point that he's confident in being able to make one. We can already see that his mind is working. His knowledge of Regina and how she operates is helping him to know what strings to pull. In a way, his actions through this fiction really remind me of weaving a blanket together. Right now, the pattern is simple, but as we head deeper into season one, it's going to get very complicated; pull one string, shift another, move strings around...his storyline here, when you focus solely on him, is really very brilliant.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB and Ysabel, for your comments on the previous chapter. Much appreciated! Next up, we have our only 1x03 chapter, and while it is another internal, thoughtful sort of chapter, it's also a doosey. We'll see the return of someone you probably aren't expecting, but it's a discovery that has to be made for the remainder of this fiction to work. Any guesses? Peace and Happy Reading!


	5. Old Somebodies

Tonight was the night.

He'd been waiting well over a week for an opportunity like this, ever since he'd confronted Regina at that Apple Tree of hers. He was starting to believe that the day might be months off or might never arrive, and he'd have to prepare for the future with educated guesses. But here they were.

He'd been busy in the last few days. After twenty-eight years, there was a lot to catch up on, and doing it in such a way that Regina might not notice anything different about him meant he had to be creative about how he acquainted himself with this new world. He wanted a way to be aware of who was around him, to let himself know who was in this town, who they were here, who they'd been at home, as well as any stray information that he happened to know about them. He wanted to be prepared and knowledgeable, and to do that, he had to unite his old self with his new self perfectly. As it turned out, his ledger was the key.

The books he kept, the same ones he used to keep track of rent, were as good as having the town census. With human eyes, it took a long time to go through name after name after name. Still, it was all worth it in the end, especially when he remembered that if Regina was capable of watching him in his house, all she'd see was Mr. Gold obsessing over his finances, something very "in character" for his alternate persona. Name by name, he went through his books. Often, he knew little about the individual, but there were more than a few that he was able to place.

Albert Spencer, a full-time lawyer, working crimes he didn't dare bore himself with-that was King George, James' and David's adoptive father.

Doctor Whale, a physician at Storybrooke Hospital-in fact, was Doctor Frankenstein, from the Land Without Color. Apparently, Regina had brought over a few individuals that were not in their land.

Tom Clark, owner of the Dark Star Pharmacy, the only pharmacy in town. Mr. Clark was teased by many for being rather short in stature, but on this side of the Curse, he knew that was neither bad luck nor ailment. In reality, he was Sneezy, one of the seven dwarves that always seemed attached to Snow White.

He studied his lists carefully, forming a checklist in his head of all those he wanted to know and needed to know and making sure they were accounted for. He found the other seven dwarves. Ashley Boyd, his "girl of ash," was currently very pregnant and working odd jobs, so she didn't have to live with her step-mother and sisters. It seemed Jefferson had kept his name of Jefferson and was secluded in a mansion of sorts close to the hospital and police station. Sheriff Graham was Regina's hunter, faithful to her only because he reckoned that she still held his heart captive somewhere safe. Kathryn Nolan was Abigail, King Midas' daughter, and David Nolan's supposed husband, not that anyone knew where David Nolan was at the moment. Sidney Glass was the Genie that Regina had used to murder her husband.

The name Sarah Fisher was the only one that made him stumble. Sarah Fisher, owner of the ice cream shop across the street. He'd given her a loan to get it, but…he remembered that. She wasn't like the others in Storybrooke that he had fuzzy false memories of. Her coming to him for a loan to start her shop, her opening day, Mr. Gold remembered those. They'd happened here in Storybrooke after they'd been here; years after, he was almost sure. But nothing in Storybrooke ever changed. For twenty-eight years, everyone had only ever had their single loop that they followed. No one ever struck out on their own or followed their dreams or got their happy endings, which meant…

Sarah Fisher hadn't always been in Storybrooke. She hadn't been brought here by the Curse. In actuality, Sarah Fisher was Princess Ingrid, the scared little Elemental from Arendelle he'd met so long ago. And this…this was very valuable information he now possessed. Until she made a nuisance of herself, it was information to keep close to his chest and play only when the time was right. Though, he was also fascinated to learn that Ingrid's niece, Anna, was among the missing.

There were a few others that joined Anna on this list of "missing people." Of course, "unknown" was perhaps a better word for it. Though he knew most people in Storybrooke, he had to admit he didn't know them all. There was an entire realm of people here; the Dark One hadn't dealt with all of them in his time, and thanks to Dove, neither had Mr. Gold. It was possible Anna was one of the faceless names he'd looked over and didn't know it. But he was disappointed and more than a bit nervous at who was on his list of unknowns.

For a while, David's name was at the top of that list, though he hadn't panicked when he realized it. His memories of when he'd awoken told him he was not a paying member of society, and shortly after he'd begun his search, he'd had Dove go to the hospital and locate a John Doe that matched David's description. A picture later, it was all confirmed. David was located even if he was the only one who knew it.

Also among the unknowns; Archie Hopper's unknown friend with dark hair who knew Baelfire, and Cora. Regina had claimed to have killed the woman when they were in the Enchanted Forest, so he supposed it was possible that was why she was missing, but he'd always doubted that she'd actually done the deed. So where was she now? More than likely, she was still in Wonderland. Dead or alive, that woman would be the last person Regina would want around here, and at the moment, he didn't care which it was so long as she wasn't anywhere near him. The Apprentice, Merlin, King Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, all of them were missing, and he couldn't recall seeing Princess Aurora or her Prince Phillip anywhere in town. But the most important person on his unknown list at the moment was the one that held something extraordinary of his inside her. Maleficent was missing.

He was certain, or at least almost certain, that she'd been carried over in the Curse. He knew that she'd still been in the Enchanted Forest when he'd been captured and taken to his cell. He'd been planning on her being here; that was why he'd had David leave his egg with his potion inside her! So where was she?

After days of consideration, he had a hunch, one theory that had come to him as he glanced across the street at the empty library, missing his Belle. He knew everything about this place, everything about his land and especially the library that Mr. Gold had considered knocking down more than a time or two. He'd seen the blueprints for it. He knew that in that library, there was an elevator; mostly, it was to be used for going up to the clocktower, but it could also go down. Down…Mr. Gold had no idea where "down" went to. The town legend had always said there was a dragon beneath the library. It was just a stupid story that children told to scare their classmates. Poppycock, Mr. Gold considered it. But suddenly, he remembered all those times he'd walked to his shop in the snow and cast that irritated glance over to the library. Why was it that the area around that library always seemed to get less snow?

It was worth an investigation. But how to pull it off? Regina was suspicious of him enough as it was, but she couldn't prove anything, and that was how he wanted to keep it. If the elevator was what he thought it was, then there might be magic on it. It might alert Regina to the fact that he used it, and he might be able to come up with some story or excuse, but at that point, he would be playing with fire.

He thought of a hundred different scenarios, dozens of different plans which might allow him to investigate, but all of them came back to one lesson the Seer had always taught him-it had to be the right time.

Well, it seemed the right time had finally arrived. He was keeping Dove happy and rich these days, paying him to watch Emma Swan, who was currently living in her yellow car on the street because no one was willing to invite the Mayor's wrath and let her stay with them. Last night, something had happened, something that nearly made him erupt in a fit of giggles when he found out. John Doe, David Nolan, Prince Charming…at Henry and Emma's behest apparently Mary Margaret had gone to read to him last night. The result?

John Doe was awake.

Dove didn't know the entire story. There had been some speculation in the hospital earlier in the night. Mary Margaret had insisted that he'd woken, but the medical staff had assured her that he hadn't. But sometime in the middle of the night, he'd wandered off in nothing but his hospital gown. Damn near the entire town had shut down today to go looking for the missing man, just as they had more than a decade ago, though no one else seemed to be able to remember that clearly. Naturally, much to what he was certain was Regina's disappointment; it was Emma and Mary Margaret who had found David in the woods.

Hopeful that a moment was coming, he'd stayed in his shop, hoping that the timing might be right. And then it arrived, a single text message from Dove. _"Things are crazy here. The Mayor just showed up with a woman she claims is John Doe's wife. No one saw this coming. Everyone has questions."_

That was good enough for him. Regina was busy. Good and busy, for the next several minutes at least. From the back of his shop, in a black bag that held all his magical potions, he grabbed a thick paste he'd been working on for just a time like this. Water, ground limestone, and salt. In their world, it was the essence of natural magic. He just hoped it would cancel or dull any protective spells that Regina might have on that elevator. With any luck, the commotion at the hospital would keep her busy enough not to notice. He grabbed a flashlight, a thick ring of keys that let him into nearly any home and establishment in Storybrooke, and he made sure his gun was tucked into his pocket. Then, quick as he could, he limped across the street to the library.

The door whined so loud at being opened, he wanted to cover his ears. But he pressed forward. Though the library did have electricity, he didn't turn the lights on and made sure not to aim his flashlight at any of the boarded-up windows. The last thing he needed was Regina getting a hint that something was wrong because some snoopy shop owner had seen something they shouldn't have. He smeared the paste he'd made over the frame of the elevator best he could and felt something tingle in the air. He hoped it was the Curse, desperate for more magic to keep itself going, taking the bait, and releasing any wards there might have been on the thing. Then he opened the doors to the elevator open.

The elevator car wasn't where it was supposed to be but rather stuck halfway down the shaft, further inviting those who wished to use it to simply leave. He wasn't fooled by it. He used the handle to inch the rattling metal cage up to where he was and then pretended not to gulp as he got into it, closed the doors, and opened a hidden panel that contained the emergency controls. Then he lowered himself down the shaft and into the mines below Storybrooke.

Ten minutes later, he was sitting in his car, huffing and puffing at what he'd seen and how he'd hurried to vacate the library before anyone knew he was there. He sent a text message to Dove and confirmed that Regina hadn't left yet and everyone was still there at the hospital. Relief spread through his body as he leaned his head back against the seat and tried to breathe.

He should have turned on the car and gone home, but he was suddenly aware that his hands were shaking and his feet felt unnaturally light. He tried to tell himself it was because he had hurried, that this body was far less capable than the body he'd had in the Enchanted Forest, but deep down, he knew it was something far more cowardly making him shake. It was what lay at the bottom of the Storybrooke Library.

At the bottom of the elevator, there had been an impossibly large cavern. It had been dark and damp, but cold. Fear kept him from taking a single step off the elevator platform as he circled his flashlight around the darkness. The light glinted and fractured over something shining and glass. It was an artifact he recognized, one that he was shocked to see found it's way over…Snow White's infamous glass coffin. He swallowed as he moved the beam of light again. Across a crack in the cavern floor, he was met with the sight of two glowing yellow eyes the size of large dinner serving platters. A low rumble had vibrated in his chest and across the walls of the black walls of the cave as those eyes had risen in height, and he'd quickly closed the elevator doors and pushed the metal cage to move faster back to the library.

A dragon was living under the library in Storybrooke.

He'd found Maleficent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so there she is. I had to have Rumple find Maleficent at some point. Regina never told him her plans for the woman in the Enchanted Forest, and I didn't have her tell him because I felt that when he finally reveals he knows where she is in 1x22, Regina looks shocked. To me, that meant he had to know it on his own. And yes, I could have had the Seer give him a vision in the Enchanted Forest that he could piece together, but...wasn't this a lot more fun? Now, there were not a lot of places that I could put Rumple investigating the library. First, because he's got to do it at a time he's sure Regina isn't looking, but then second because while he may not be in some episodes, he's got a full schedule, even if it is behind the scenes. So, for me, having him use this time in 1x03 to discover Maleficent checked all the boxes. It allowed Rumple to investigate Storybrooke, get his bearings, and get the upper hand even as Regina thinks she is winning. 1x03 is the best solution.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you, RolfB, Futuresunshine02, SemperVenice, for your continued comments! I'm always happy to know you liked the last chapter, and I'm shaking in my boots, hoping that you'll like this chapter. It is sort of crossing into Research!Rumple, I supposed, at least in the beginning. I also liked this chapter because it gave me an early opportunity to start making some appropriate changes. I know, the elevator in season 1 is different from the elevator in season 2 and beyond. In season one, Regina tells Emma the controls are on the outside, and when you look inside the elevator,d it appears that way. But of course, in season two, Belle can close the elevator doors from the inside, suggesting they are there. I solved the control problem by having there be "emergency controls" inside the elevator. But as to how they get to be more prominent in the next season and how the ones on the outside disappear, I take care of that in the next fiction. One step at a time. Peace and Happy Reading!


	6. Girl of Ash

The hardest thing about all of this was locking up the shop and going home each night. Such a simple thing to anyone still living on their loop, but for someone who still had their memories, for him in particular, each night it was a struggle to get into his car and drive back to his home, instead of bolting for the town line. He wanted to go. He'd wanted to drive out there and cross the line every night since he got his memories back. Some nights he even thought he would finally break down and do it. But he fought that temptation. Over and over again, always the same routine, his stomach always in knots by the time he pulled up to his house…it was nearly unbearable.

He was the Dark One. His instinct was to test the Curse, to see if maybe it had weakened enough to make a single exception and let him through the border to go and find Baelfire. Fortunately, his brains always managed to overrule that instinct. His instinct was to test the Curse, but his mind reminded him that there was no need. He knew this Curse. He'd spent so much of his life focusing on it that he probably knew more about it than the woman who had foolishly cast it for him. He knew that while there were small signs of weakness in it now that the Savior had arrived, the weakness he needed was too big to be considered small. Which meant he was still trapped here. He could drive out there, try and cross the town line, but he knew he'd fail. He'd have car trouble, or an accident, or get some important call last minute to summon him back. Silly as something like that seemed, even though he had his memories, he was confident that the Curse would keep him here. Just like it seemed to be keeping Emma Swan here.

She'd been in town now for nearly two weeks. Aside from the original series of events she'd brought with her-his memories, time moving, David's awakening-things had been rather dull for the last few weeks. Emma had moved in with none other than her mother not long ago, and they were still working on settling in. The poor girl had slept in her car long enough after being kicked out of Granny's. He was happy to see that she'd chosen to move in with Mary Margaret. He was sure something would come of that someday, but for now, it just seemed to be two women, who appeared to be the same age, living as roommates. Other than the fact that she had no idea who she was really living with, it seemed to be a good arrangement. But of course, Mary Margaret wasn't the only one who was having difficulty remembering things.

He didn't need Dove to get an update on David Nolan, just a trip to Granny's. The whole damn town knew about him and talked about it constantly. He'd woken up, but he had no memories. Nothing. The town talked on and on about how his wife went to his bedside every day at visiting hours with stacks, heaps of pictures in an effort to jog his memory. So far, nothing. It was amnesia, the doctors claimed. He wasn't so sure. His theory was that it was a part of the Curse Regina hadn't planned for. She'd meant for him to spend his entire life in that coma, frozen in time, and therefore hadn't thought to give him memories. But now that he was awake and walking around, he certainly didn't have memories of before and no life to speak of here. He couldn't think of a worse fate. But fortunately, the doctors and Mary Margaret had befriended him and were providing him support. He cared little for any of it other than Mary Margaret being there for him.

It could be good. It could be excellent. He wasn't willing to say it was part of the Curse breaking, but he certainly believed it could help the Curse break. After all, the last time David and Mary Margaret had been together in Storybrooke, their love had woken each other up. If it had worked then, it could work again. And who knew what two more people, two adults, his own grandparents, supporting Henry, could do for the good of breaking the Curse. It was potentially a life-changing development, but one that was in its infancy. Only time would tell if it went anywhere.

There had been a few more minor incidents between Emma and Regina, as it could be expected, but nothing major or catastrophic. Archie and Mary Margaret were helping Emma to find safe times to meet with Henry, but he was nearly certain that Regina knew anyway. For a town that contained an entire realm, plus a few others from distant realms, it was the epitome of a small town. If he knew that Emma and Henry were spending time together without needing to be told by Dove, he assumed Regina knew. Why she was still allowing it, that was the real question?

But a question to solved later, not until after the Curse broke, and she regretted that decision. It would happen, he assured himself. The day would come, sometime soon, when the Curse wasn't just weakened but broken, and then he'd get back to his Baelfire. How…he wasn't entirely sure, but he'd get to him. In the Enchanted Forest, he'd measured his time left in decades, then years, then months, now there was the possibility that he was down to days. He just had to remember that.

And so he did, as he pocketed his gun at the end of the day, grabbed his car keys, checked for any other messages from Dove, then walked out to the front of the shop. Resigned to go home, he flipped the sign to "closed," turned off the lights, left the shop, and-

Paused.

As he turned to lock the door, he thought he might have heard something. Something around back? A scuffle?

He smirked a little as he turned his attention back to the door and locked it. It wouldn't be the first time a couple of raccoons got into a fight in that back alley. That was probably all he was hearing.

Until he got halfway down the street to his car and heard the sound of glass breaking. Not glass bottles toppling over or hitting a trash can. It was the sound of a window shattering. Irritated enough from the day, he sighed as he turned around, part of him already expecting the sight that met him. Someone had just closed the side door to his shop after entering. The small rectangular window by the handle had been broken. A break-in. Though he had false memories of them happening when he was a younger man, he knew that he'd never once had one of those in all his time here in Storybrooke. Everyone was too afraid of him to attempt such a silly thing.

He was tired and irritated, and so he removed his phone from his pocket, content to call 911 and sit in his car until the police handled it and he pressed so many charges it made the thief's head spin. But fucking 911! All he got was an answering service at the station, a recorded voice that told him to stay on the line for emergencies. A ridiculous notion. One would think if he was calling 911, it was a fucking emergency! Unless, of course, the Evil Queen was having a literal fucking emergency of her own, and the sheriff was too busy to do his damn job.

He'd been irritated before; now, he was downright angry. He left a curt message for the sheriff to get to his shop when he was not otherwise engaged and checked the gun in his pocket before hobbling around to the back door. He checked the windows as he went. There was a shadow moving around inside but no sounds that he could hear. It was one person. A rather large individual to be such a skilled cat burglar. Fortunately for him, he knew every inch of his shop, every place the floors creaked, everywhere the door squeaked.

Gun out, he let himself in quietly through the back door. His eyes swept over the familiar space finding every appropriate shadow. No motion whatsoever. He ventured further into the store, careful with every cane and footfall. At the threshold to the showroom, he glanced around. More familiar shadows, but one small motion that didn't belong. He smirked as he took in the sight before him. It wasn't a large burglar, just a pregnant woman, one who was so absorbed in his safe she didn't appear to even notice he was there. Ashley Boyd, formerly known as Ella, famously known as Cinderella. He pocketed the gun, finding no real threat as he watched her eye his property. His heart hitched when he remembered that he'd stored the dagger in that safe, but then calmed again when he realized that the safe also contained the contract she'd signed to give her baby away for adoption. An adoption that was never finalized, something Mr. Gold had always put off in the Curse. Coincidence…he doubted it. Just as he doubted that the girl breaking into his store now wasn't a coincidence. Someone was off their loop, and given the possibilities, this was the best situation of them all.

_"A precious debt from a woman of ash will find the boy of fire…"_

He'd spent so much time in the Enchanted Forest focusing on the Seer's prophecy he could practically hear it now. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of it. Wasn't this an interesting and yet highly anticipated turn of events?

"Ashley. What are you doing?" he questioned, startling the girl so that she jumped to face him.

He expected her to cower. She hadn't been much of anything back home, a little slip of a thing so in need of her Prince to save her. It would have been in her character for the girl to beg, maybe even plead and explain her presence. But he'd forgotten that no one here was who they'd been before. And instead, she only grit her teeth together the closer he got.

"Changing my life!" she shouted.

He watched her arm move up as if to slap him, but the blow never came. Instead, his eyes exploded in pain as she sprayed something into them that burned. He stumbled backward into his shelves, screaming as he tried to get it out. But he'd dropped his cane, and pain roared to life in his shattered ankle. He heard items tumble around him as he tried to catch his weight, but his leg gave out instead. Over the pain in his eyes, there was the sensation of tumbling forward and then-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then he passes out. We all remember that part. Now, let's talk season one timeline because I don't think we have talked about it yet, and it's pretty crucial to understanding how events in Storybrooke are going to play out. Ultimately, the timeline for most of the Storybrooke stuff was established years ago when I wrote Belle's stuff. Still, we've never really experienced this part because Belle was locked up during it. The Storybrooke timeline, in my opinion, falls into three phases: Oops, Unplanned, and Now We Got It. Season One Storybrooke is in the "Oops" Phase. I call it the Oops Phase because it's clear that mistakes were made in this season, but I tend to politely overlook them at first, trusting that A&E really didn't anticipate fans that would over-analyze the season one timeline. What I mean by that is simply this: In an interview before season 2 began to air, A&E were finally asked about the Storybrooke timeline, to which they answered, "you should assume each season takes place over the course of a year." Great. Only, not so much. As you watch season one, it's obvious that it doesn't take place over the course of a year. It does take place over the course of many months, but not a year. I know this because aside from the few dates we have, like Emma's Birthday and the Valentine's Day episode, they also use a lot of time identifying language. Throughout the episodes, they'll have their characters refer to past experiences with words like "yesterday" and "last week" and "the other day". So, A&E can say that it takes place over the course of a year, but ultimately I don't think they were in a spot yet where they were keeping track, and well...oopsies happened. Now, for me, it means in this first section, episode 1x01-1x12, we have dates for when that needs to take place. In order to make the timeline work, I add time whenever I possibly can. That's what the first part of this chapter is all about, adding time, showing that time's going by, and these things don't take place right next to each other. There are not many places that I can do this, but when I can, I take that opportunity. I always try to make it a realistic passing of time, thus why Emma sleeps in her car for days, not just one night but many. It's literally just to add time and make things work. Clear as mud?
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter! I'm so happy to have you all back and reading. Obviously, we've made it to the 1x04 chapters here. I'm not really crazy about this chapter. It pretty much exists to get that one scene in and then take care of time passing. It makes the beginning sort of long and rambly, but essential. I promise the others are better. Peace and Happy Reading!


	7. Outside Chance

Anger was an emotion he was very good at. It was an emotion that every Dark One was good at, but considering the fact that he was nothing but a weak human in this Curse, he knew for a fact that the anger he felt belonged to no one but himself. And that was okay. In his experience, anger often brought about clarity. Once the gnashing of teeth and urge to destroy anything he could get his hands on phase passed, he found himself alone with his thoughts and was able to think through the anger and devise a plan.

He'd had a rough night. It was well after midnight by the time he finally came to on the floor of his shop, staring up into the eyes of the sheriff and an unknown paramedic who kept flashing a light into his eyes. The light was unnecessary. It gave him a headache so bad he felt nauseous, and immediately he'd gripped the young man's wrist so tight he'd cried out in pain and moved away so that he could assess himself. He was on his back. His ankle hurt like it always did after he tripped or didn't put his weight properly onto his cane. His head was pounding, so much so that his own heartbeat was agony. And when he put his hand to his forehead, he felt a sting on one corner and the familiar crust of dried blood. But what bothered him the most was his eyes. They felt gritty. They stung when he rolled them around in his skull as if sand had gathered over his eyeballs. They were swollen and difficult to open.

Pepper spray. When she'd raised her hand, and something had sprayed into his eyes…she'd maced him. Fucking hormonal princesses!

The next two hours were a blur.

The paramedics wanted to take him to the hospital. Tempting as it was to do that and potentially have a run-in with David, he knew that the shop and Ashley Boyd were a far more pressing situation at the moment. It was nothing, he insisted. He'd wash his face, bandage his own damn head, and take an aspirin for the headache against the advice of the paramedic. Still, the paramedics continued to insist, even after he'd checked his head in a mirror and saw the small cut. They wanted to properly wash his eyes out after the pepper spray and monitor him for a concussion. It took threatening them with a lawsuit if they didn't leave his property to finally get the Sheriff to say that if he was clearheaded enough to insist on that, then he was probably fine. They finally left after giving him a long list of things he shouldn't do for the day and telling him to come in if he had problems.

Once they left, he wasted no time laying into the Sheriff, who insisted there had been another emergency across town he'd been caught up on. He wondered if it had been Regina, as he'd originally thought, but he managed to hold his tongue on that one, especially since he was coming to regret his decision to call the man. If he could have gone back in time and knew it was Ashley breaking in, he never would have left the message. Given what had happened, given the Seer's prophecy regarding the girl, he preferred to keep this to himself. The Sheriff attempted to be gentle, but his questions were probing and annoying as he moved around him, trying to put it all together while lying about it at the same time.

He filled out the police report but lied about what happened using his father's old method of being as truthful as possible. The story he told was accurate right up until he found Ashley. Instead, he left out that detail, simply said that he didn't see an assailant, they attacked him from the shadows, used the pepper spray, and he must have fallen. The keys to his safe sat on the counter by his register instead of where he'd clipped them to his belt. The girl must have used them to get into the safe. The adoption papers were gone. But the dagger was still safe inside.

"Nothing has been taken," he insisted when the Sheriff asked him for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. "I must have scared them off."

"You're sure? Positive? This is a small place, but there are a lot of tempting valuables-"

"And if one of them has been taken, I'm certainly not going to find it in the next twenty minutes. I need to do an inventory for that, but as you said, there are many items in my shop. A full inventory will take weeks."

"And you're sure the camera doesn't work."

"Yes," he lied. "Hasn't worked in years." Though, in truth, he hadn't even remembered he kept a security camera until the Sheriff had looked up and spotted it. In fact, he'd used it so infrequently the equipment for the thing was stored in the tiny water closet in the back room. It might prove helpful in this situation, but given what he was going to be doing now that Emma Swan was in town, he preferred to turn the thing off and forget about it for good.

"Well…I've got your report. If you are sure, you are fine-"

"I am."

"Right…if you find anything missing in your inventory, let me know. Otherwise, whoever it was probably couldn't find what they were looking for and got spooked. If you think of anything, let me know."

"You'll be my first call. Hopefully, I won't be transferred to a voice mailbox again."

"Ahm…what the paramedics said…I know you haven't got many friends in town since your aunts died. You really shouldn't be alone with a concussion, and they said you shouldn't sleep for a while."

"I'll manage."

"If you want me to stay-"

"What I'd like, Sheriff, is for my calls for help to be answered in a timely manner, so I'm not bleeding out on the floor for hours, and to be left alone with my trinkets to make sure my possessions are still my possessions. Do we understand each other?"

Graham looked skeptical, but Regina's toy knew how to take a hint. He nodded his head once and then slowly backed out of the shop, leaving him alone with his anger to figure out what would come next. And what a question that was. He was positive; this wasn't a coincidence. It hadn't just happened. No, no, this was the Curse breaking, and his present finally catching up to a future he'd seen hundreds of years ago.

 _"A debt from the woman of ash will find the boy of fire,"_ the Seer had said. And here he was. The boy of fire was obviously his Baelfire, making this the most important part of the prophecy. And Ashley, "Cinder"-ella, was obviously the girl of ash but…Ashley? The one to find Baelfire? No. It didn't seem right, and it never had. She owed him her baby and nothing else. And besides, the prophecy wouldn't lead him to the Swan only to have Ashley Boyd be the one to find Baelfire. No. Long ago…long, long ago, he'd suspected it was going to be an exchange, a favor. It was Cinderella's debt but one that Miss Swan would acquire for herself somehow. Now that he knew the Savior, it made perfect sense. She was a bail bondsman, capable of finding people. Oh, true, he planned on bringing magic to this world to find his boy, but he'd not set foot out of this town in twenty-eight years. He needed more than magic. Emma Swan had knowledge of the world outside their little town, and she was tough as nails. She would be the perfect person to enlist in helping him get to his son.

He had no Seer to whisper in his head now, but he had a plan. It was nothing but a half-cocked hunch, but given the pounding in his head, he wasn't capable of much more. He was going to get his favor, his debt…Emma Swan would pay it. But first, he had to make sure the girl was involved.

He spent the night in his shop. He was tempted more than once to bring out the cot and sleep, but that was the cocky Dark One inside of him talking. Like it or not, right now, he was human, and his headache told him that the paramedic's worries about concussions were real. He wasn't immortal until he brought magic back. He'd hate to make it this far only to die because he'd been an idiot who thought he was indestructible. So instead, he washed his eyes thoroughly in the water closet sink. He used the ancient security footage to find Ashley's picture, printed it out, then took his cane to the equipment, making sure it was good and destroyed. He stayed up for the rest of the night, thinking through his plans. Plans he had for getting Bae back, plans he had for bringing magic back, plans he had to get Emma to break the Curse. Some of those plans were solid. He felt certain he knew how to bring magic to this world using an old well up in the hills said to return lost things. Once he got Emma to get him the rest of the True Love Potion, it should be easy. From there, with magic, finding Baelfire should be just as easy. Other plans, like getting Emma to break the Curse entirely, were still unclear. He hoped, with time, it would sort itself out. He hoped. Near dawn, he changed into a spare suit he kept at work for all those false times Mr. Gold spent the night. Then as the sun rose, he packed up Baelfire's shawl, Belle's chipped cup, and his dagger to transport back to his house. He'd never had a break-in before this, but with the Curse breaking, he could be sure others wouldn't be back to see what else he had. He felt more comfortable leaving his most precious things at home, instead of in the shop, at least until he could find a safe place for them.

When morning arrived, he'd meant to venture over to Mary Margaret's apartment first thing, but after stopping by Granny's to grab a cup of coffee, he found that the chatter about town wasn't about his break-in, as he expected, but rather Emma. Outsiders had come into town that morning to deliver boxes to Mary Margaret's apartment. Supposedly it was Emma Swan's belongings. Though outsiders did on occasion come to Storybrooke, it was always the talk of the town when they did, and the magic always seemed to be…disturbed by it somehow, as if the Curse knew they didn't belong. Outsiders never stayed long. So he sat down for some breakfast, giving the service time to get in and out, then once his belly was full, and the coast was clear, he went to the apartment. He walked up the stairs, listened to the sound of the women chatting, and then knocked on the door. Mary Margaret answered, her eyes going wide at the unexpected sight of him. She'd looked that way the first time she met him, not that she remembered.

"Miss Blanchard. Is Miss Swan here?"

Suddenly the girl appeared over her shoulder in the doorway. Mother and daughter together…what a happy sight if only they knew it. He extended his hand for the girl, and she took it. "Hi, my name's Mr. Gold. We met briefly on your arrival."

"I remember."

"Good. I have a proposition for you, Miss Swan. I, uh… I need your help. I'm looking for someone."

"Really? Um…" the girl looked over to Mary Margaret, and he followed suit, raising his eyebrows to indicate he wanted privacy. Unlike the curious and brave Snow White, Mary Margaret backed away at the gesture.

"You know what? I'm going to go jump in the bath," she excused before hurrying away. Perfect.

"I have a photo," he explained, pulling a photo from his security cameras free from his pocket and handing it over. "Her name is Ashley Boyd. And she's taken something quite valuable of mine," he explained, hobbling into the tiny apartment. The table was still set for breakfast. They must have been in the middle of it when the movers had arrived.

"So, why don't you just go to the police?"

"Because, uh…she's a confused young woman," he lied. "She's pregnant. Alone and scared. I don't want to ruin this young girl's life. But I just want my property returned."

"What is it?"

"Well, one of the advantages of you not being the police is discretion. Let's just say it's a precious object and leave it at that."

Emma tapped the photo against her fingers as she looked him over. He kept his look of concern on his face, but it was a struggle not to smile as he saw curiosity and concern grace her face. Her mother had the same look when she was queen, not that she'd know that now.

"When'd you see her last?" she finally asked.

"Last night. That's how I got this…" he let his hair fall out of the way of the scab that had formed in the night, the source of his current headache. When he turned back, he decided that she looked properly shocked by that to please him. "It's so unlike her," he added with false concern. "She was quite wound up. Rambling on and on about changing her life. I have no idea what got into her. Miss Swan, please help me find her. My only other choice is the police, and I don't think anyone wants to see that baby born in jail now, do they?"

That was a low blow, but one that he had perfectly timed to play on the Savior's own past. He remembered what the adoption agency had told him about Henry, about his mother, where he was born. In fact, he still had the records that he'd been sent sitting around somewhere. But now, here she was trying to do right by her son…it wasn't possible for her not to feel that comment deeply. And it appeared to work. At least if the defensive posture and crossed arms were any indication.

"No, of course not."

"So, you'll help me, then?"

"I will help her."

"Grand," he smiled. _"I will help her."_ Help "her," not "you." Not exactly what he was expecting. It was better than that. She was developing a relationship with this girl already. He could easily use that to his own advantage.

Suddenly the door to the apartment clicked open and there stood none other than the reason Emma felt so connected to dear Ashley Boyle, her son Henry.

"Hey, Emma. I was thinking we-" The boy stopped dead when he saw him standing there, his eyes widened, but he politely put a smile on his face the way his Bae used to when he ran into someone he didn't care for. He respected that about the boy.

"Hey, Henry!" he exclaimed, smiling back and pretending not to notice the way he smiled. "How are you?"

"Okay?" he responded as if he wasn't sure.

"Good," he chuckled as he made his way to the door. "Give my regards to your mother. And, um, good luck, Miss Swan." He took a glance at Emma before moving around Henry and looking down at him. The second he closed the door, he let his smile vanish.

Henry…he respected the boy, but as long as he was pursuing the Seer's prophecy he had to admit that he hadn't forgotten about her other prediction. A precious debt from a woman of ash would find the boy of fire. But a boy would lead him to Baelfire, and would also be his undoing.

He didn't believe in chance. He didn't believe in luck or happenstance. He didn't believe it was an accident that the town clock started again the night Emma decided to stay in town or that David waking up was random. And he certainly didn't think, not for one single second, that the fact that Henry had brought Emma here for a second was a coincidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A significant chapter, even if it doesn't seem like it. I made sure to touch on a few things here that relate to the future to make you, the readers, aware that it's all happening. So, he knows how to get magic back, the fact that he remembers the prophecy regarding Cinderella, and then at the end, the fact that he's beginning to consider Henry as the "boy" who will be his undoing. All those will be super important in the future, and I wanted to touch upon them so that we could make a chapter with a "seen scene" seem a little bit newer.
> 
> Big thank you going out to RolfB for your comments on the last chapter, much appreciated. I hope you'll enjoy this one; even if we've seen this scene before, I really enjoyed writing the opening to it with the Sheriff and Rumple having fun being Mr. Gold. I also had to take care of the security camera because it's obvious later that's the kind of picture he shows to Emma, but the fact that he doesn't have that stuff around later...there had to be a reason for it. And frankly, I just couldn't see Rumple holding onto it. He's too smart for that. So away it went, and away we go...into the next chapter! And the conclusion of 1x04. Peace and Happy Reading!


	8. Debt Transfer

While he was confident that all Ashley had taken was the adoption agreement, he was also a competent businessman, and that meant that he spent the day at the shop taking inventory. In truth, it wasn't a terrible idea. Other than a quick pre-cursory check for the items he most wanted when he'd first awoken, he hadn't done any kind of formal inventory on the shop. It was good now that he had to. It allowed him to take out each individual card he had for every item he owned, see if he could identify it's proper history, not the history the Curse had given to it, and then determine if he needed to keep that item or if he was willing to sell it. He made it through the morning before he felt like his headache was finally going away, but after lunch, he was so tired the letters began to blur together on each of the cards, it was mid-afternoon, and he was thinking very seriously about laying down to take a nap just for an hour or so. If he needed, he figured he could call Dove and ask him to call back in an hour. If he didn't answer, then he should call 911. He was about to make the call when the cell phone in his hand began to ring. It took him a second to process what was happening, to realize he didn't recognize the number on the screen, but finally, his brain made the connection to answer, and he smiled at the news.

"Mr. Gold, this is nurse Cullen. I have a note here in the chart of one Ashley Boyd that you are to be informed when she comes in to deliver her baby. That new girl, Emma Swan, she just brought her in. If I were you, I'd get down here. She's going to have this child any minute now."

He didn't care that the paramedics had told him not to drive, suddenly he felt alive and awake and aware as he shuffled to his car and made the five-minute drive to the hospital. Emma Swan never once called him, even though by now, she surely had ample opportunity to. "I will help _her,"_ the girl had said. He hoped that was true. He hoped that as she'd searched for the girl, some of her story had come out. He hoped that Cinderella had convinced her that she was ready and willing to have the baby and raise it. He hoped that the Savior was prepared to accept a deal that she didn't know was coming because he'd been ready for well over twenty-eight years to make it.

Storybrooke Hospital was small; the Curse had equipped them with just about everything they'd need while they were here, so they didn't have to venture out into the world, but it was still a single building that often left him wondering how they fit it all in. The maternity ward consisted of a single dead-end hallway, and it shared a waiting room with about three other departments. Ashley Boyd's baby would be the first baby that Storybrooke ever had, though still not a child of this realm. Though she was a child of this world, she was conceived in the other world and therefore always would somehow belong to it, just like Emma Swan. Unlike Henry Mills, who through and through was a child of this world.

He sat spotted the boy easily enough, sitting in a chair as Emma spoke with him in the waiting room, about what, he wondered. What had transpired? Some secret plot she had? He assumed so since she obviously hadn't found the time to contact him as their deal stipulated. He longed to get into her head, to understand what she was plotting, and planned to ask her, but before he could a young female doctor he didn't recognize approached the Savior.

"Miss Swan, baby is a healthy six-pound girl, and the mother is doing fine," she announced.

"What lovely news!" he exclaimed, forcing a surprised Emma to turn and look at him. "Excellent work, Miss Swan. Thank you for bringing me my merchandise," he smiled back at her, gleaming with what he hoped looked like pride in her. She might not have called him, but he wanted her to feel responsible for bringing her here where that child was in danger of being handed over to him. "Seems I've some calls to make, paperwork to fill out…"

He strode away from the girl, beaming at the look of horror he'd left on her face. It was that look that told him to make a detour on the way to the nurse's station. Well…that look and the fact that he was once again exhausted. He couldn't wait for this to be done if only because he'd decided that once it was, he was going to go back to his home, take a shower, and sleep for a month. For the reason of speeding this whole process up and bringing that future to himself as quickly as possible, he baited his trap and waited for Emma to fall into it.

Damn, he hated hospitals. At the hospital's crummy little coffee vending machine, he inserted some money and glanced at Emma telling Henry something while she danced on her feet between him and her son. Finally, she proceeded. He banged against the machine when it didn't work properly, and just as Emma approached, it began to work for him...like magic. Though he hoped the deal to come would go smoother than the machine.

"Well, well. Must be my lucky day," he muttered as Emma drew nearer. "Care for a cup, Miss Swan?"

"A baby? That's your merchandise?" she chastised with disgust. He'd never been happier to hear such a tone from a woman. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, because, at the time, you didn't need to know."

"Really? Or you thought I wouldn't take the job?" He smiled at her boldness, the volley they had going back and forth. She certainly was her mother's daughter. But he was hoping that there was a bit of her father in there too.

"On the contrary, I thought it would be more effective if you found out yourself. After seeing Ashley's hard life, I thought it would make sense to you. I mean, if anyone could understand the reasons behind giving up a baby, I assumed it would be you."

The Savior narrowed his eyes at him, staring him down with the same look of disgust she'd had when he'd seen her go up against Regina in his vision. Shame she had no idea which side she was truly on…for now.

"You're not getting that kid."

"Actually, we have an agreement. My agreements are always honored. If not, I'm going to have to involve the police, and that baby is going to end up in the system. And that would be a pity. You didn't enjoy your time in the system, did you, Emma?"

"It's not going to happen."

And there were the other half of her genes. Her mother was bold and clever, defender of all things just. Her father, on the other hand, had always been stubbornly drawn to lost causes, to helping those who couldn't help themselves, to problems with difficult solutions. He smiled in awe of it, in wonder at what neither of her parents could see just yet. What a relief to see both Snow White and Prince Charming residing perfectly in one body, one daughter. They'd be so proud. But how far would she go, he wondered, to make it so? As far as her parents would? He did have a hunch, something he'd been preparing for since the Enchanted Forest.

"I like your confidence. Charming. But all I have to do is press charges. She did, after all, break into my shop."

"Let me guess – to steal a contract?"

He shrugged. "Who knows what she was after?"

"You know no jury in the world will put a woman in jail whose only reason for breaking and entering was to keep her child."

He raised his cup to his lips then, partly to make her feel like he was nervous, but also to keep Mr. Gold from telling her that he was well aware of that fact, being a lawyer himself. But he wasn't trying to get Ashley Boyd in jail…he had something far more sinister in his mind.

"I'm willing to roll the dice that contract doesn't stand up. Are you? Not to mention what might come out about you in the process. Somehow, I suspect, there is more to you than a simple pawnbroker. You really want to start that fight?"

Confident, defiant, strong, and now he could add smart to the list of adjectives that described the Savior. She'd analyzed him perfectly, not that she'd ever find proof of it, not in the world. But that worked just fine for him.

"I like you, Miss Swan. You're not afraid of me, and that's either cocky or presumptuous. Either way, I'd rather have you on my side."

She smiled. "So, she can keep the baby?"

"Not just yet!" he insisted, strutting away, trying to make her feel like this could slip away all too easily. It wasn't something that would have riled Snow White, but her dear father, on the other hand… "There's still the matter of my agreement with Miss Boyd."

"Tear it up."

"That's not what I do," he pronounced. "You see, contracts, deals, well…they're the very foundation of all civilized existence. So, I put it to you now," he pressed, stepping closer to her, letting her feel like she was reeling him in when in fact, it was the other way around. "If you want Ashley to have that baby, are you willing to make a deal with me?"

"What do you want?" she drawled skeptically.

He smiled, hearing the Seer's words in his hands and imagining the feel of magic between them. He didn't need for there to be magic to know what it felt like when the tendrils of one agreement loosened from one and snaked themselves around another.

"Oh, I don't know just yet," he lied. "You'll owe me a favor."

"A favor." The thing he'd been plotting forever since he'd first told Cinderella she was pregnant and wanted the child. A favor…it was costly enough to cover a multitude of sins and yet cheap enough to buy a baby. Emma breathed in and out for a few heartbeats as if she knew he was tricking her with something. But he held her gaze, dared her to challenge him to a contest of dominance. She'd lose. No one ever won in a deal with the Dark One.

Finally, she took a step forward. She didn't blink as she muttered the word "Deal."

She turned to walk away, not saying a single thing to him as she retreated back to her son. He beamed at the daughter of Prince Charming and Snow White. She truly was the perfect embodiment of both her parents. And one day, she'd know it. One day she'd see it, and so would the entire town. One day, when a precious debt from a woman of ash would find his boy of fire…one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we have the conclusion of 1x04. It's a very significant episode. In fact, this scene is really significant, but as I warned you, this episode is a lot more interesting from Emma's side rather than Rumple's, as are most of the episodes until about 1x12. Still, I hope you enjoy this episode and the insight into Rumple's thoughts as he works his deals while still managing to hide himself from Emma.
> 
> Many thanks to RolfB for your comments on the last chapter. Next, we head into 1x05, and if you recall, Rumple isn't present in that episode, but I still gave him something to do that you're probably not expecting. I hope you won't mind it, but I felt it was very in character for our beloved Dark One. Want to know what it is? Keep reading and find out! Peace and Happy Reading!


	9. Birds and Bugs

Just because he was anticipating the breaking of the Curse didn't mean he was going to be stupid about it. There were things in his life that were important, things that he couldn't risk losing, and if a girl like Ashley Boyd could break into his shop, he had to assume others could as well. He'd disabled the camera so that he was safe, but the downside was that now he couldn't use it himself. So, his conclusion was: if it was important, it needed to be transferred elsewhere, somewhere he still considered safe. The morning after the robbery, he'd packed up Bae's shawl, Belle's chipped cup, and the long slim box that held his dagger. He'd gone home and taken those items with him. Now he had to decide what to do with them.

His house was a mess. It always had been. He had hazy memories of it being that way since his aunts died, which meant it had been that way since he'd arrived in Storybrooke. It didn't particularly bother him; he only lived in a few rooms. But it would have bothered Belle. She'd have set herself to cleaning it and keeping it organized. And so, he placed her cup nicely on a table that was more or less uncluttered, somewhere that was safe from his bad habits, a place he could see it every day, but it would appear to simply be a decoration to anyone else. Baelfire's shawl wasn't so much a shawl as it was a scrap of cloth. It looked like a rag, and when he reflected on the life that they'd lived before, he hated to admit it, but the truth was that it was a rag. He folded it as nicely as he could and then set it in a drawer in the kitchen reserved for the rags. It concealed itself.

But as for his dagger…that was going to be harder to hide. For now, it was stashed inside his pillowcase. He went to sleep feeling it beneath his head each night and woke each morning ever aware of its existence. There was something ironic and yet familiar about that. But the pillowcase wouldn't do, not forever. He needed to make alternative plans for it. Bae's shawl and Belle's cup were items he didn't want to lose. But losing the dagger was a lot more dangerous. And without magic, without the ability to constantly feel for it and be aware, he needed something much more creative for it.

He spent the next two days brainstorming ideas for where to hide the dagger and how to hide the dagger. Much like he'd found Maleficent if Regina was watching, he needed to come up with a time when he knew that she would be distracted. That should have been something easily handled, it should have been something he could rely on Dove for, but as of right now, he was having a hard time thinking he could rely on Dove for anything.

The previous night, he'd been in the shop when he'd felt the Earth shake, the power flicker, and heard the sounds of half a dozen car alarms blast to life. He'd sent Dove, who was still tailing Emma, to investigate, and he'd reported a few hours later that the explosion had been in one of the old town mines. Regina was using it as an excuse to finally shutter the mines. He'd thought nothing of it at the time. Something like that seemed too natural for it to be part of the Curse breaking. But he'd been shocked earlier today when Dove had sent him another message today. Henry had gone into the mines. Archie had gone with Emma and Graham to try and get Henry out of the mines when it appeared that somehow Archie and Henry had become trapped inside. Emma, along with half the town, was working to free the pair.

"And Regina is allowing such a thing?" he questioned through a quick text message.

"In all the confusion, I forgot to tell you. Emma Swan was the new deputy, appointed by Graham. Today's her first day."

That was all it had taken to anger him. He was paying Dove good money to watch the girl, paying him to be his eyes and ears. And he'd just "forgotten" to tell him that she'd found a job? A job working for the man that the Evil Queen shared her bed with? A job that gave her access to damn near anything and everything in Storybrooke?! If he'd had magic, Dove would have found himself on the other end of a tight fist. Fortunately for him, there wasn't magic. And he didn't dare show up at the mine site. He had a role to play. Being curious and caring were not words that were in Mr. Gold's dictionary. He couldn't show up at the scene because he wanted to watch, and he couldn't think of a reason to go down on his own.

Dove sent him messages throughout the day, messages that he must have thought he cared for. "Half the town is here working to free the boy." "They found an old shaft they're trying to use as access." "Boy and Doc pulled from the shaft." He didn't care for any of them except for the last one. "Going home," was all it had said. Going home? He nearly laughed out loud at that one. First, he'd forgotten to share crucial information. Then he'd decided to share unimportant information while being certain where the girl was. Now that she was going to be leaving, he was leaving her too. His thinking was backward. And now, to top the encounter off, he'd been sending messages to Dove telling him not to go, to keep watching the girl. Now that Henry was free, he needed to know what Regina's reaction was to her, what Henry wanted to do. But suddenly, Dove had stopped responding to him.

"Home," he'd said. It appeared that Dove needed some reminding of his job. Fortunately for him, he knew where Dove had disappeared to. And better yet, he owned the town, which meant that he happened to have a key to damn near everything, including Dove's apartment.

He sneered at the two useless puppets he kept in his shop, Marco's parents, not that he knew that at the moment. He kept that sneer the entire drive across town. He knocked once on the door, but there was no answer. He had a key. Legally he was the property owner, and if he was worried for the safety of his tenant, he was allowed access. For all he knew, the rush of water he heard coming through the pipes could have drowned out poor Dove's cries if he slipped in the shower. That would hold up in court.

Inside the apartment, he heard nothing but water running through the pipes. The shower was running. Dove's phone, listing his messages, and jacket were left haphazardly on the kitchen counter, along with a can of beer that appeared to have been pulled from the refrigerator. That was all good. That meant he'd be back before falling into bed.

And Dark Ones did love dramatic entrances.

He took a seat across the living room and waited for his time to come. He waited patiently. Patience was his gift, after all. Finally, the moment came. The water in the pipes stopped. There was a pause and then the sound of a door opening. Barely a second later, Dove strode out of the hallway, towel slung across his waist, still wet from the shower. He took it as an opportunity to turn the lamp by his chair on.

"Shit!" Dove cried, jumping nearly six feet and making a motion for his jacket. He preferred not to know, but he suspected he had a gun hidden there. "Fuck!" he cried again when he finally realized who it was. His shoulders relaxed a bit. He stepped away from his jacket. His chest continued to heave. "You scared the shit outta me."

He ignored the language. Nothing he hadn't heard or said before himself, though maybe not word for word. He refused, however, to smile gleefully at the result of his little surprise.

"Remind me why I hired you, Mr. Dove."

"What?"

"Why do I employ you?"

"Sir?"

"You see, I've been asking myself that question all day. Why do I hire you to give me necessary information, and why do I continue to pay you when you don't tell me that important information. Information like…like Emma Swan having a job."

Dove took a breath and shook his head, looking baffled. Did the boy not even understand what he'd done? "I only found out last night, after the mine explosion. Given the circumstances, I thought-"

"I don't pay you to think, Mr. Dove, I pay you to tell me what I do not know," he growled through his teeth. He held up Dove's cell phone, the one that had his unanswered messages on it. "I pay you to answer your phone!" he roared, throwing it at him. The boy managed to catch it before it could shatter on the wall behind him.

"I'm…I'm sorry. It was a long day up at the mines. I was filthy, I needed to-"

"You don't finish your work until I say you have," he interrupted, rising from his seat. "Emma Swan is your assignment. Instead of leaving her at the mine to handle your own…business, you left when she did. Do you even know where she is at this moment?"

"She was just as filthy as the rest of us. I assumed she'd rush right home and take a shower herself."

"This isn't a time for 'assuming,' Mr. Dove. This is a time for knowing. And I need to know everything about that girl. This is a warning…don't disappoint me again." And then, with his assistant good and rattled, he set his sights on the door and-

"Is there something going on?!" Dove shouted at him before he could leave.

He turned to face him again. "Something going on?"

"This is a sleepy town, Mr. Gold. And don't get me wrong, I love my job, but working for you is usually status quo, and now all of a sudden…this girl shows up in town. Storybrooke hasn't seen this much excitement since…I can't remember the last time it's ever seen this much excitement. It's just got me thinking there might be something going on…something you're not telling me."

"I was under the impression, Mr. Dove, that part of your employment included discretion. I don't ask you questions about where you get your information, and you don't ask me questions about the jobs that I have for you," he corrected. "If I'm wrong, perhaps it's time I found a new associate. One of your cousins, perhaps."

Dove stood up a little taller, a little prouder, a feat for someone wearing nothing but a canary yellow towel. "That won't be necessary, Mr. Gold. I'm just…curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat, Mr. Dove. Imagine what it'll do to a bird. Don't make me have to track you down again, Mr. Dove. I find it tedious work, the sort of work I'd prefer to pay you for."

Without another word, he left to go back to his car. But he didn't get far, barely halfway across the parking lot before he heard…crickets! Crickets! The sound caught him off guard, and for a few moments, he couldn't understand why until, off in the distance, he heard the clocktower chime the hour, a noise that was still foreign to him, and he realized. There had never been the sound of crickets in Storybrooke before. Coincidence? Like the mines? Or something more?

Angry as he was, he felt himself smile as he opened his door and slid into the driver's seat. First the clock, then David…now there were crickets. What next, he wondered. What next…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is something completely and totally made up, and it was also super fun to write. Even though it's not in the show, it does have a purpose. I didn't just write it because I wanted Rumple to notice the crickets were back, although that certainly was part of it. I also wanted a chapter dedicated to Rumple and Dove to look at the type of relationship they have, which is an interesting and unique one. It's sort of part his relationship with Jefferson, part relationship with Regina, with maybe a dash of relationship with Frankenstein thrown in there. On the one hand, it's very obvious that Rumple considers Dove an employee. He pays him. He sets the terms of their arrangement. But on the other hand, they are friendly, and Dove does get away with things. The first time we saw them in the shop, there was a bit of bantering between them, and in this chapter, you can see that Dove does feel comfortable enough to ask him, "why am I doing this?" Now, Rumple draws a line, he doesn't answer him, but he does allow the question. For him, Dove is not quite on the same level as Jefferson was, but he's also a lot more than the doctor. He sees him as a tool, just as Regina was in casting the Curse, and that's about as close as I can get.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter! I appreciate you reading and writing to let me know you like them. 1x05 doesn't really have much for Rumple. He's only briefly seen in a few shots, blink and you'll miss him. That means that this chapter, of course, is the only chapter for 1x05, and next we are diving into 1x06. I told you, the chapters for 1x01-1x11 sort of pass by fairly quickly with only a little hitch around 1x08. We'll be into the interesting stuff soon, I promise. Peace and Happy Reading!


	10. Unexpected Wrongs

Given the circumstances, the last person he expected to hear calling out "hello" in his shop was David Nolan.

It had been well over a week since his little chat with Dove, and since that moment, the bird had been a wealth of information. He'd informed him that David's physical therapy had been complete, and he was due to return home yesterday. This information was apparently quite easy to obtain as there was a "welcome home" party planned for David with nearly everyone in town who meant something involved. But Dove had gone above and beyond to provide him with proper information. He'd wandered into the party on his own. It wasn't difficult, he'd told him in a message. With so many people coming and going and with the guest of honor having no memories of who was and wasn't a friend, no one seemed to notice Dove when he crashed it. Emma Swan and her son were attending. It seemed he'd learned his lesson as he admitted that going allowed him to keep an eye on Emma at the same time he did David.

But it was the oddest thing, he'd told him later that night. He hadn't seen David at the party. Not at all. By all accounts, he'd certainly been there at one point, but he'd left by the time that Dove had arrived. Where to? No one seemed to know. He hadn't returned, and his wife, Kathryn, appeared to have not made much of the sudden disappearance. Throughout the day today, the reason why seemed to be obvious. Word on the street was that David had left his wife. Rumors seemed to swirl as they always did in this small town. Some people said that without his memories, he was having a difficult time adjusting and had left her, spent the night at Granny's. Others said that he was only pretending not to remember because he always had wanted to leave Kathryn. There was even one that stated that he had been seen with none other than Mary Margaret throughout last night and today. That particular rumor was his favorite. But with no evidence to back it up, he had no reason to believe it was any more believable than the other rumors.

He went about his day as he normally would, as Mr. Gold normally would, getting messages from Dove about Emma and questioning him on David when he could. It was evening, close to closing time when he heard his shop door open and close, and to his shock, the voice of one David the Shepherd turned False Prince James turned David Nolan call out "hello." He felt his heart jump. David was here. In his shop. Again. Of course, if he did his job right all those years ago, he shouldn't remember that last part, at least not right now. He shouldn't be able to remember the way he'd stormed in here years earlier demanding his daughter. He shouldn't remember stealing his own sword or waking him up after the first time. But of course, if Regina had done her job right, he also shouldn't be completely without memories.

He didn't know what he thought of all that. He had his own theories surrounding David's lack of memories, theories just like everyone else seemed to have; some of them thought he was faking, but he didn't believe it for a second. He was convinced it was part of the Curse breaking, Regina's mistake, or simply a fluke. He had theories galore but no way to prove any of them. He should have had something. So, who had done their job wrong? It was his first interaction with him for well over a decade. He was curious. He was curious about a number of things, and he wondered if it was possible to discern anything for himself.

"Hello?" he heard the False Prince call out again. The sound of it made him sigh in relief. The real David wouldn't have been so polite with him as to call out gently or even wait in the front. He'd done his job right. Regina…he didn't know what David's lack of memories meant. He also didn't know what would drive the Savior's father in here, to begin with. With that in mind, he palmed his cane and shuffled out to the front of his shop.

David didn't notice him enter. He was too busy noticing something else. The tiny glass unicorn mobile. He was staring at it as though mesmerized. It unsettled him. If he didn't know any better, he'd think that he recognized it from somewhere. Interesting. As David reached his hand out to touch it, he took a deep breath and held his ground, prepared to find out once and for all what he knew.

"Charming," he called.

David pulled his hand away and glanced over at him.

For a second, his breath hitched as he looked into his eyes to see if the look he saw was a response to his name. But closer examination proved there was genuine confusion in his eyes at the word.

"I'm sorry?" Charming…the word meant nothing to him. Which meant he returned to his original conclusion. He didn't remember the first time they'd met.

"The mobile. Isn't it charming?" he explained, using Mr. Gold's salesmanship to cover the test. "Exquisitely designed, masterly crafted… I can get it down, if you like."

"No, no. I mean, it's…it's very nice," he explained, coming over to him with a face of complete innocence. He didn't bother trying to feign being hurt. He'd known from the beginning, whether it was Prince Charming or David, that he didn't want to buy anything. "But actually, I'm looking for the Toll Bridge. The Mayor said there was a fork in the road by your shop, but-"

"It seems Miss Mills has led you astray." The question was why. Where was he going? Did she know something he didn't? He had Dove watching Emma; perhaps he needed to get one of his cousins to keep an eye on David.

"Yeah, yeah, you would think the Mayor would know her own town."

He smirked. What Regina didn't know about this place and how they'd all gotten here…he could fill entire volumes of books with that information. "One would think…out of the door, turn right, two blocks you'll find a trail. Can't miss it."

David smiled. "Thank you!" Without uttering a good-bye, David turned, but he hadn't made it to the door before something had stopped him in his tracks, caught him off guard. He swallowed as he followed David's gaze. The windmill. He was looking at an old wooden windmill. He was staring at it. Intently.

"See something you like?"

David took a step closer to it. "Where did you get that?"

"That old thing?" he managed to ask quietly, even if his heart was thudding wildly in his chest. "That's been gathering dust for…forever." Or just the last twenty-eight years. It was one of those things he'd acquired in the Curse, something that Mr. Gold had memories of purchasing, but he knew the memory was false. That wasn't a big deal. Most of the items in this shop had that kind of history. What was making him nervous, however, was the memory that went with that particular item.

David took another step forward and spun the windmill around, watching the blades of the fan turn and turn, nearly as mesmerized with it as he had been with the mobile. "I think…this belonged to me."

"Really?" he swallowed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes…I remember."

Fuck.

He'd seen so much good since Emma Swan arrived, so many promising signs that the Curse was breaking and all was going the way he planned. And then, right before his eyes, it had happened. A step in the wrong direction. A less than promising development. The windmill David had spotted, he knew its history. It's false history, of course. But David hadn't known it. He shouldn't have known it. And yet, something about that windmill caught his attention. It drew him forward it urged him to reach out his hand and twirl the old wooden blades around, staring at it like it was some sort of hypnotist's tool. A part of him had been tempted to interrupt, had recognized he was getting somewhere, and distract him before anything could come of it.

But before he could put a stop to it, David declared, "After I bought our house, I hated this windmill, my wife sold it to you…Kathryn." David had turned to face him then, his eyes round and filled with tears but not tears of joy. They were tears of regret. "I'm right, aren't I?" he asked almost sadly.

Sadly…where exactly had he been going tonight? He had his suspicions. And if those suspicions were correct, he would much rather have told him that he was wrong. But that was dangerous. Regina was close to this situation, befriending Kathryn, encouraging David in the wrong direction, he could lie, and it would be all too easy to trace it back to him, and then what? He'd have no reason for doing it other than wanting David to continue spending time with Mary Margaret, and everyone knew that Mr. Gold did not goad on relationships. Lying was too risky. Which meant…

Fuck.

He grit his teeth together as he went to the place he kept his inventory cards. After looking through them for a moment, he pulled one out, but it was just for show. The card he'd pulled out was actually for a diamond ring. He didn't need to read the one that belonged to that windmill to know it was true. His false memories told him all he needed to know.

"Amish made wooden windmill, late twentieth century, weathered but otherwise good condition. Recommend repainting. Purchase cost fifty dollars store credit, estimated value once repaired, eighty dollars. Original seller…Kathryn Nolan."

David swallowed, his throat bobbed with obvious emotion. Which emotion and why, he wondered. "It's true," he sighed, looking back at the windmill. "Ah…" after a few seconds, David reached up to wipe at his eyes. Now there was no denying that he was crying.

Fuck.

"Toll bridge is two blocks and to the right, you said…there's a path?"

"Can't miss it," he confirmed. And just like that, David Nolan left his shop, turned right just outside the door, and walked away. He slammed his hand down onto the glass case in front of him, anger ripping through him, urging him to hit something, destroy, break, smash. But again, he resisted. He'd only just barely finished having his back door repaired, and this time there would be no way to explain that kind of reaction or the damage from it. All he could do was brace himself, finish his work, go home…and do a lot of internal cursing.

Fuck!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm only really "meh" about this chapter. It's what we saw with just a bit of framework to put it in place properly, and the episode itself was good, but I fear that this scene, in particular, falls prey to the fact that Rumple is still at arm's length in the midst of this situation. He's aware of things but only really hearing about them via Dove. But the good thing about this chapter is that it starts to open his eyes to how big this really could get. This is the first time that it dawns on him that he might need to have people beyond Emma watched to keep up with people. Later on in this fiction, much later, Rumple has Dove's family, his own personal spy network, everywhere. He's sort of like the godfather with his own little crime family; only they're not really his family, and other than spying, they're not really committing crimes. Still, it's impressive, and I can't wait to get there with you, so hang on!
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you, Raynos (Merlock) for letting me know about the issues on FFNet, I'm glad they've been resolved. And thank you RolfB for your comments on the last chapter! I'm glad you liked it and felt that it was believable. And I love that you really like Dove and his relationship with him in this fiction. Of course, you can expect it to change over the course of the series, but looking back, I can't tell you how happy I am that I decided to create that character. He saves me a ton in this fiction, and so I'm sure he'll do the same in several others. Peace and Happy Reading!


	11. Known Hiding Places

Fuck!

He didn't know what it meant that David suddenly had a memory, but he knew it wasn't good. With Emma, the Curse was breaking. He'd seen evidence of that. There was no doubt in his mind all these changes were because of her arrival. He had many theories as to why David didn't have his memories when he woke, but the one that he'd been hoping for was that it wasn't so much evidence of the Curse breaking, but rather a side effect of the Curse breaking.

He'd hoped that no memories might have been a step in the right direction, evidence of a weakness in the Curse. After being asleep for twenty-eight years, it wasn't that David didn't have memories or couldn't remember; it was simply that Regina hadn't given him memories. Regina had planned to keep him that way, so she'd seen no reason to waste magic on crafting a new identity for him. That was the theory he'd hoped for the most, at least, because under that theory, then David could have had so much potential for helping to break the Curse if he truly woke up. It would have been so easy!

He'd already been drawn to Mary Margaret, and the pair had already woken one another up while they were under the Curse. So far, it was only Henry who seemed convinced of the Curse, if David and Mary Margaret could fall in love here again if they could wake one another up…that sort of development could have been invaluable for Emma in the long run.

But for David to suddenly regain his memories…how had that happened? What did it mean? It had been more than a week since the last big signs of the Curse breaking, since the crickets came back to Storybrooke. Had Emma started adjusting? Was she getting too comfortable with life here? Too used to Henry's warnings? Buying into Regina's theory that her son needed help from Archie? Was she less fierce? Less persistent? In a way, he almost hoped that was the case! Because that theory was bad, but it wasn't as bad as the other theory he had.

Regina had done something.

David had told him that he'd run into the Mayor before coming into his shop. Was it possible that Regina had seen what was going on and fought back against the breaking of the Curse? Had she done something to give memories to the Former Prince Charming? Oh, how he hoped that wasn't the case. Because if that was what happened, then it confirmed what he'd feared and suspected from the beginning…Regina had magic. Somewhere in this town, she had access to power that he did not. And though he'd been behaving in these last few weeks as though that were a likely possibility, to have confirmation of it was a terrifying thing. If she could activate Cursed memories within David Nolan, what else was she capable of doing?

Fuck!

He'd left work; locked the shop, and driven straight home but not before calling Dove and telling him to go to the toll bridge path and tell him what he saw. He'd been nearby and didn't ask questions as to why he was abandoning Emma Swan to go watch a bridge path. He was nearly home when Dove sent him a message that David had emerged from the path, crying as he walked down Main Street. He'd been finished with dinner and doing the dishes when he received another message that Mary Margaret had appeared. She was also crying.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something. He wanted to go and kill himself an Evil Queen!

But he didn't. Instead, he went about his typical routine that night. He glanced at the chipped cup, still set perfectly upon its clean and orderly table. He looked in on Bae's shawl hidden in his kitchen drawer. Still, he waited until he was dressed and ready for bed before checking for the most important item he owned because if Regina did have magic and was capable of watching him, then he didn't even want to give her a glimpse of the dagger. So he went to bed, rolled over onto his side, then slid his hand between his pillows so he could feel the dagger through the fabric of his pillowcase.

Still there.

Still safe.

But here in his home, if Regina had magic…it wasn't good enough. If his store could be broken into by Ashley, then his home could be broken into by anybody, especially a Mayor who possessed her mother's old skeleton keys and could open any lock. The dagger was something he couldn't risk being taken.

He had two options.

Either figure out a way to discreetly carry a fourteen-inch dagger with him everywhere he went in Storybrooke and hope that Regina didn't notice or find it suspicious if he did.

Or make a new plan.

Obviously, he elected for the second option. He spent most of the next day brainstorming, going over plan after plan in his head. At the same time, Dove continued to send him updates about David going home and Kathryn taking him back; meanwhile, he'd seen none other than Dr. Whale slip out of Mary Margaret's apartment early in the morning, leaving him with a mental image he was happy to ignore. The good news was that by the end of the day, he had a plan together. It wasn't a great one, it wasn't something he was thrilled with, but it was the safest plan he had, one that accounted for Regina looking away at just the right time so that he could do his work.

That night he sent a message that Dove was to meet him at the shop bright and early. The bird didn't complain. Not one bit. And the next morning, he managed to sneak the dagger out of his pillowcase and place the necessary items in the trunk of his car. He parked on the street and didn't even bother going inside. He just waited for Dove to turn up, and it was only then that he unlocked the door. He explained that he wanted him to go to Regina and keep her busy for one hour. No more, no less. How? He didn't care. Start a fire, complain about how Mr. Gold was treating him, talk about the volume of the clocktower chiming at night now that it was working again, hell, Dove could tell her that he'd sent him to complain about the library being such an eyesore and it would be acceptable! So long as it was for one hour, he'd make sure to cover anything that happened later.

Dove was irritated but knew better than to not listen to him. And so, twenty minutes after releasing Dove for the morning, he received a text message that told him he was about to see Regina. And he wasted no time.

He immediately got into his car and drove out into the woods on the outskirts of town. He parked his car on the side of the road and slipped on rubber boots and an apron, and then grabbed the shovel from his trunk. Then he walked inside. He'd purposefully chosen a random spot but one that was easy for him to find again. A small cluster of trees by a fallen log, perhaps a three-minute walk directly east into the woods. One of the trees had a flimsy tangle of bushes and ferns surrounding its trunk. It was easy to spot and easy to identify if he needed to come back later. It was elevated slightly, and the roots would ensure the ground didn't erode. Not to mention his watch told him he had only forty minutes to get this accomplished and get back to the shop, so Regina didn't notice his absence.

With that in mind, he started to dig. Two inches. Four inches. Eight inches, he dug until there was easily a hole that was one foot deep into the ground, big enough to fit his dagger. He'd wrapped it in cloth before he'd left home that morning, and he intended to bury it in the cloth as well. So, with a silent prayer that he was doing the right thing and not making a mistake that Nimue would chastise him for when the Curse was broken, he plopped his bundle into the hole and then began to refill it.

He was just about finished when he heard it, a sound he hadn't heard since his time in the Enchanted Forest, one that sent shivers down his back. Was that…could it be…a wolf? Half of him hoped it was at the same time the other half hoped it wasn't. On the one hand, there had never been any evidence of wolves in Storybrooke. On the other hand, there had never been evidence of crickets either until nearly two weeks ago. It certainly sounded like a wolf, and he supposed that there might have been one here who had been living quietly in the Curse…unless, of course, Ruby had realized what she was and regained some of her magic. Either way, the sound of howling and his phone telling him that he had twenty-five minutes to get back to his car and return to the shop told him that it was time to go. So, with one last cursory look around the spot he'd left the dagger, he took a deep breath, shifted the brush around him, and emerged…

Only to come face to face with Sheriff Graham.

For a moment, he feared failure, feared Regina had been on to him and sent her huntsman out to watch him as he'd sent his bird to distract her. But then he took in the Sheriff's face. He appeared out of breath, as though he were running from something or someone.

Suddenly he remembered the wolf he'd heard. That, coupled with the Sheriff's previous history...

If memory recalled, in a past life, he was a friend to the animals, specifically the kind with four legs and lots of teeth.

Maybe he wasn't running from anything…maybe he was running to some creature. That was best for him. If that assumption were true, then it meant he'd only just arrived. He hadn't been watching him hide his dagger and couldn't report the behavior to Regina. But only if he played this right.

"Good morning, Sheriff," he excused, suddenly aware that they weren't in his shop but rather the middle of a forest that was supposed to be deserted save for the animals. Graham was smart. And he had just stumbled upon him out in the middle of nowhere. He had to tread very carefully. He had to keep the focus on Graham and not him. Regina was supposed to be kept busy, but he was her bedmate…what was he doing here? "Sorry if I startled you."

"Right. Sorry, I…I thought you were a wolf," Graham huffed.

He smiled. Now…why would a police sheriff suddenly take an interest in wolves. "Did I forget to shave?"

"What are you doing out here so early?"

Shit. "A spot of gardening," he excused, hoping he didn't want details. "Yourself?"

"I was looking for, um…"

"A wolf. Yeah, I think I'm beginning to catch on," he interrupted. The best way to distract a person was to turn their attention back to themselves. If he could make the Sheriff feel like the crazy, stupid one running through the forest, maybe he wouldn't take too much note of his own presence. "You know, to the best of my knowledge, Sheriff, there are no wolves in Storybrooke. Not the literal kind, anyway. Why are you looking?"

"You'll think I'm crazy."

"Try me," he grinned. A sheriff taking an interest in a wolf was absurd; Mr. Gold wanted him to know that. A Huntsman who had once had many of them as his companions, on the other hand…not so absurd. And Rumpelstiltskin wanted very much so to hear his answer. He was holding his breath, waiting for this answer. After the disappointment that was now David Nolan the other night, he was eager for some good news.

"I saw one in my dreams, and then I saw one for real. Just a few hours ago. Did you, uh…did you see anything unusual out there?"

He raised his shovel and stared at it for a bit, not because he was particularly interested in it but because it kept him from leaping into the air with joy. "Saw a wolf in his dreams and then one for real."

It could have been just a dream. But after twenty-eight years of nothing, he doubted "just a dream" would send him running into the woods, actually looking for one. Especially not when, besides Henry and Mary Margaret, Sheriff Graham was spending the most time with the Savior now that she was the deputy. All magic had a price, even in this land. He wondered, whatever it was that gave David Nolan memories…memories for memories was a cost with a nice ring of irony to it.

"I'm afraid not. I do wish I could be more helpful," he explained, moving around the Sheriff, away from his dagger.

The dagger…he'd have to hide it again. Whether he had his memories or not, Regina still possessed his heart. He couldn't take the risk that he'd tell her that at the same time she'd been distracted, he'd been out digging in the woods and having her put two and two together. But…as long as he'd already buried it and was moving away…

"You know, Sheriff," he muttered, turning back. "They say that dreams…dreams are memories; memories of another life."

The Sheriff stared at him with something like fear in his eyes. No. Not fear. Panic. But not an external one, an internal panic. A crisis of identity. That was encouraging. "And what do you believe?" he finally breathed.

"I never rule out anything," he commented with a smile. "Good luck, Sheriff. I do hope you find what you're looking for."

He moved over the log before him and began to travel back to his car. But after he was a distance. He turned back at the rustling, at the moving of Sheriff Graham. He held his breath, hoping that the Huntsman was nowhere near his dagger. He wasn't. He was looking about, this way and that, looking perhaps for his wolf. And then he was gone. Into the woods, chasing after…wolves or ghosts, he didn't know. But he was away from the dagger.

Still, he let out another curse as he watched the Huntsman disappear into the woods. The dagger was safe for now, but he couldn't leave it there not for too long. He glanced at his watch. His hour was up. Or at least it would be soon. He didn't have time to unbury it and bury it again in a different place. He didn't have time to do one or the other either. He had to go.

Graham was a threat to it. But for now, he was occupied. He needed to go. He needed to rethink his plan, find a new hiding spot, plan another way to keep Regina occupied. The house wasn't safe, the woods were compromised, perhaps the third time would be the charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hated some of the logistics of this scene, but I also liked that it opened up some other things later for Rumple. For example, the fact that Graham stumbles upon him as he's burying the dagger, but Gold still just leaves it there. It's careless, not just for Gold but for Rumple especially. You don't keep something that valuable hidden and safe from your enemies for so long only to fuck it up at the end like this. Seriously, all it would take is for Graham to go back to Storybrooke, take Regina to lunch, casually mention, "oh, I saw Gold in the woods," and then Regina realizes something is up and demands that the hunter take him to where he was and...well, you can see where that goes. But, I couldn't write around it. At the end of the scene, he leaves, so I had to have Gold leave too. But, the one positive thing in all of this was that later, when we finally see Gold go back for the dagger, it's in a different spot. Did you catch it? The place he digs it out of is obviously different from where he hid it. That was a positive thing for me. It meant that I could have him say, "fine, I can't to go back now, but I'll be back, and I'll figure out another place for it." That was my one lifeline.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you, RolfB, for your comments! Here's some more of those "fucks" you like so much. And now, everyone wave goodbye to Graham because this is the last scene that he appears in. Shame really, other than after he's hit on the head, this is really the only interaction that Gold has with him. It was so sad, he was one of my favorite characters, and I understand the reason for his short-lived life, but there are days I wish he'd stayed alive. I feel like he would have gotten along so well with Neal and Belle. Ah well, no use crying over spilled milk. Peace and Happy Reading!


	12. Life After Death

He moved his dagger the following Thursday, a week after he'd been caught, on Thanksgiving afternoon when he could be certain Regina was busy with Henry. Not that it was a terribly difficult task this time around. In fact, he'd spent practically the entire week figuring out the perfect spot to bury it out by his cabin. He'd had time to do it, felt comfortable waiting, all because of one fact.

Sheriff Graham was dead.

It had happened on the same day that he'd spotted him burying the dagger. That very night. Whether or not he'd told Regina he saw him that morning was unclear, but after hearing the report from Dove, who was still watching Emma, he felt confident enough that he hadn't had the time and there had never been the place. Emma had run into Graham that afternoon. They'd followed a white wolf, a real wolf, around town before going to the cemetery and sneaking into the Mills Mausoleum. When they'd come out, Emma and Regina had engaged in some sort of argument which Dove couldn't hear, but he confirmed that they'd both taken swipes at one another. He hadn't seen Regina leave, but Graham had left with Emma. They'd gone to the police station. And there, less than an hour later, Emma had frantically called the paramedics saying that Sheriff Graham had collapsed. Dove couldn't confirm, but the rumor was that by the time they'd shown up, Emma had been the one to tell them that he was dead.

The funeral was ill-planned because of the Thanksgiving Holiday Regina had scheduled it for the Sunday afterward. When he arrived, it was standing room only. The only way he'd gotten a seat was by walking over to Belle's father, sitting on the end of a row toward the back, and motioned to his leg with a smile. "You know…cane," was all he had to say before the man grumbled out a sigh and resigned his seat to him. He didn't say another word, not even as he mentioned that his loan was coming due, and he was looking forward to doing business with the man who had killed his true love…though he might have left off that last little fact. Crowded as it was, the others in the row made plenty of room for him.

It felt like nearly half the town was packed into the tiny funeral parlor room. It figured. Regina had planned the service. Since he'd had no family, she'd seen it as her mayorly duty to make the arrangements. It figured that someone like her would have assumed that she'd be the only one to attend instead of considering the town that Graham kept safe and in order throughout the Curse. The former Evil Queen tried to maintain a façade of responsibility and valor, but he could see how his pupil swallowed hard, the way she blinked too frequently and dabbed at her eyes. If he didn't know any better, he'd think the poor girl had actually cared for the man, maybe even convinced herself that he cared for her. Magic and hearts and love…it was first and foremost messy stuff. He thought he'd taught her that.

To her credit, Emma Swan did not cry, but it was clear that she was affected by the Sheriff's death. She'd been with him when it happened at the police station, so it was ridiculous to think that she wouldn't be affected. And though he'd heard that she'd cried plenty that night, she didn't shed a single tear now. Sitting next to Mary Margaret, she stared straight ahead at the various speakers, unmoving except for the occasional blink. At one point, Mary Margaret had put her hand over her daughter's. Emma had winced at the contact, but when she looked over in her direction Mary Margaret smiled at her, and she'd managed to muster a half-hearted one before turning back to the service. Whether or not they knew they were mother and daughter, the connection they were starting to share was, without doubt, growing stronger by the day. Sad as all this was, that was positive thought.

He didn't stay for the reception, which he was sure, given the service, would lack both space and food. No, he didn't stay because he had work to do. Or rather work to oversee. Across town, he'd hired Dove and a few of his cousins to "clean out" Sheriff Graham's apartment. Though, of course, that was only half of it. In actuality, they'd been hired to comb through the apartment and locate any personal possessions and collect them for him to pick up.

Painful as it was, life went on. Life had to go on because this small town had been stuck in a rut for far too long. Not that he cared about anyone else but his boy, but he also knew that keeping this town moving forward was the only way to prevent more useless, wasteful death. And after watching Emma, who had dutifully been acting as deputy all this time, he was already working on the next steps in a new plan.

"This is it?" he questioned as Dove brought a single cardboard box to him and set it on the small coffee table in front of the equally tiny couch. "One box?"

Dove shrugged. "There wasn't really much to find. The apartment is fully furnished but not much of a home. He was married to his job, it seemed, so we didn't find many personal items. Guy didn't have any family, so no pictures or anything sentimental. Unless, of course, you found someone?"

Ah yes, when he'd explained the job to Dove, he'd told him it was because he was going to search for someone related to the man to take his possessions. The honest truth was that he hadn't even bothered trying. Dove was right. The man had no family; none with two legs that would appreciate any of his knick-knacks anyway. The Evil Queen's Huntsman had practically been raised by wolves, and since she'd wanted him to herself...she hadn't given him a family in the Curse. He was alone, even when he was with her. A lone wolf through and through.

"It seems our former Sheriff was a genuine man. What you saw was what there was. He had no family."

"Well…that's too bad. But this is it. Other than the clothes which we either donated or threw out, this was really all that was left of him. Given the circumstances, I'd ask if you wanted me to take these to the local pawn shop but seeing as how that's also you-"

"It's a job well done, Mr. Dove," he interrupted, peering into the box to look over what they had found. One item, in particular, stood out. It was a leather jacket, not the type that Emma Swan appeared to fancy but….

"I thought you donated or threw the clothes away."

"It was his favorite jacket, Sir," one of Dove's cousin's answered from somewhere behind him.

"That's Marc," Dove explained. "He played darts with Graham every Monday night."

"He wore it everywhere, Sir," Marc insisted sadly. "It's not really…ordinary. Remy said you wanted keepsakes…"

And so it appeared he'd gotten keepsakes. Some more helpful than others. Now that he was looking, he did see a dartboard with several darts bundled together in a coffee cup at the bottom. That was certainly not something he needed. In a rare moment of pity, he removed the board and darts and held them out for Marc. "I think these will have a happier home with you."

Marc took a breath, then turned red as he reached out and took them. "Thank you, Sir," he choked out.

"So what now?" Dove asked as his cousin looked the items over, and he saw him wipe his eyes on the back of his hand.

"Now the apartment is professionally cleaned, carpets and surfaces will be replaced, and it'll be rented out again. You know how this goes, Mr. Dove. Out with the old, in with the new."

"Rented out, wait…doesn't the Sheriff job come with the apartment? What about the new girl? Emma. She's only the deputy, but she's been acting as sheriff since he died? Shouldn't she be promoted? Shouldn't she move in?"

"I'd rather keep all that quiet for now," he smiled. Though that wasn't exactly in the cards, for now, it was reassuring that was where Dove's head had immediately gone for the future of the Sheriff. "She can't formally take the position until two weeks after it's vacated. As for the apartment when she does…well…you've been watching her Dove, does she seem the type to want to live in her dead former employer's apartment."

"Not particularly, but…Mary Margaret's place isn't exactly big."

"But it's not small either. No, I'd like to keep her where she's at. When she takes the job, we can keep her at salary instead of taking out for an apartment."

"And the box?"

"I think I'll hold on to it for a bit. You never know when it might come in handy."

"But, Sir-"

"Don't ask questions!" Dove shouted at another of his cousins. The corner of his own mouth twitched. It seemed that Dove had indeed learned his lesson. It seemed he might have even enjoyed the power trip that came from being in his employ. Good.

He motioned for Dove to pick up the box and carry it to his car for him, again motioning to his cane. Once it was set snug inside his trunk, he turned back to him. "Finish the cleaning; I'll see you're all paid, with a reminder, of course, that I expect services to come with discretion."

"We know. He knows."

"Good," he confirmed, slipping a pair of sunglasses on and fumbling with his keys. "I'll be in touch. There are things I'll need from you in the next few days. I will be looking to hire a couple of your cousins to help me with some other work. Just some little things, but I'm working on something special, and I need more eyes than you have. Be sure they know that discretion can buy them their way to the top of the list."

"Always happy to help, Sir. Any of us are."

He beamed. He might not have magic, but money did have a special sort of power in this world. "That's what I like about you, Mr. Dove. Wait for my instructions."

As he drove back to the pawnshop, he could hear Graham's belongings rattle and shift in the trunk. All that was left of a Cursed life. Nothing that would have been truly important to him if he'd died knowing who he was. If that was the case, he suspected Graham would have died happy, knowing Emma was with him. It was a waste. The only benefit from it that he now had a suspicion about where Regina was keeping her magic. Graham had no home, no family, no purpose other than being the Sheriff.

He had plans for Emma, though. She had a purpose and a family; she just didn't know it yet. As for the home part…that was something that would take time, but it wasn't contingent on the Curse breaking. He could begin that process now. He could make her invested in this place, these people, he could make this her home. He just had to wait a few more days, and until then, he had to proceed with caution. There were forces at work even beyond his control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter. I know it, you know it, but I'm hoping you won't think too much about it because even if there isn't really too much happening in this filler chapter, I still sort of like it. This was one of the first and easiest places to grab time in this fiction. After Graham dies, Gold announces that after 14 days, Emma could be Sheriff, so it was nice to have that built-in and explore what those two weeks looked like. Fun fact, while working with the calendar, I found that Thanksgiving was included in that, so I could use that to Gold's advantage. This was also the easiest place to set up "what's to come" for Emma and Gold in the next few episodes, to introduce her new position and to show that Gold has pretty much been thinking about it since Day One. Any time I can make him use some natural foresight instead of magical foresight is a good day as far as I'm concerned.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your very kind comments. I'm so glad that you are enjoying this fiction, and I hope that you'll continue in this fiction. Filler or not, Rumple has some excellent moments in here. I feel like he plays the conniving role really well when he kicks Moe out of his seat, but he also has that moment of genuine kindness in giving Marc the dartboard, that was a shocker to me, and yet even after I wrote it, it wasn't. Coming up next, the start of the 1x08 chapters. Peace and Happy Reading!


	13. Mutual Promotion

Today was the day. Fourteen days since Graham died. Fourteen days since the office of "Sheriff" had been vacated. Fourteen days that "Deputy Swan" had been acting as "Sheriff Swan." If he had his way, that wouldn't continue for a fifteenth.

Today was the day. When he'd left the night before, he'd laid two things out on his table as his project for the day. The first was a cloth, an old rag he'd detached from a garden ornament; originally meant to be used outside, it's waterproofing had since worn away and he wanted to use some lanolin to get the ornament ready for sale. The second was the number for the direct line to the Sheriff's station, a reminder to himself to call first thing. And so he'd gotten into the office this morning, called the Deputy to request she stop by at her earliest possible convenience, and set to work on his waterproofing. An hour or so later, just as he was nearly done with his work and considering lunch at Granny's, he heard the door to his shop ring before the voice of Emma Swan called out "Gold?!"

He smirked. Fourteen days. That law degree he'd never earned sometimes came in awfully handy.

"Gold, you in here?" he heard her call out again.

"Well, it is my shop," he muttered to himself. Though he did have to admit, the action reminded him a bit of when her father was in here just a few weeks ago. Honestly, was the entire Charming family destine to just assume he kept the door to one of the most valuable places in Storybrooke unlocked and the place unsupervised all the time?

Suddenly the curtain that divided his private space from the public space was shoved open, an action that Emma Swan seemed to regret immediately as her nose wrinkled and she took in the smell of his work for the day.

"Whoa!" she cried, taking a step back. "What is that?"

"Oh, this is lanolin–used for waterproofing."

"It smells like livestock."

"Well, it is the reason why sheep's wool repels water."

"It stinks."

Yes. Yes, it did. How odd. He knew that lanolin smelled to other people. It just never seemed to bother him, not even when he was Mr. Gold. Now that he had his memories back, now that he was himself…it didn't bother him one bit. In fact, he'd say it was almost a pleasant aroma for him. It reminded him of freshly shorn wool just waiting to be spun into thread, afternoons in his aunt's home, days in Mr. Oak's field, and all those times that Baelfire had sat on his lap as he'd taught him how to spin. It didn't bother him. It just made him homesick. It made his fingers itch to sit in front of a wheel and spin, something he now knew he hadn't done for decades, a fact that seemed impossible even though he knew it was true. For the first time since Emma Swan had arrived, he realized just how desperately he wanted to spin in the midst of all this. Spinning was what so many of the plans he'd come up with required, they always had. But with Regina potentially watching and all the trouble he'd gone through to hide the dagger during the Sheriff's funeral, there wasn't a chance he was going to start now and give her the opportunity to suspect any more than she already did. So instead, he sat in his shop, he tinkered with whatever was available for the day, he smelled the lanolin and convinced himself that it was almost like the same thing. Almost. Suddenly he knew the first thing he was going to do when the Curse was broken, and everything was out in the open.

"Um, if there was a reason you called the Sheriff's Department…if you want to talk about that quickly-"

"Yes."

"Or outside…"

"I just wanted to, uh, express my condolences, really. The Sheriff was a good man." She seemed stunned by the words. Obviously, she hadn't expected them. He couldn't really blame her; two weeks probably seemed too long to wait to give condolences. But as with most things, for him, it was just right. Two weeks…he glanced down at the badge on her belt and found exactly what he expected he'd find. "You're still wearing the Deputy's badge."

Emma followed his gaze. But she didn't say anything. In fact, she seemed confused by it. Had Regina forgotten to tell her…what an unfortunate oversight on the part of their Mayor.

"Well, he's been gone two weeks, now, and I believe that after two weeks of acting as Sheriff, the job becomes yours. You'll have to wear the real badge."

"Yeah, I guess. I'm just not in a hurry. So, um, thank you for the kind words," she dismissed before practically running out the door to the front room. He'd hit on a nerve. Good. He liked his victims a bit nervous. They were easy to manipulate that way.

"I have his things," he called before Emma could get to the front door to leave for good.

"What?"

He moved to the counter where this morning he'd purposefully set the small box that contained the Sheriff's meager belongings. Not much…but just enough. Perhaps something that she might use or need to help her, and himself, in oh so many ways.

"The Sheriff. He rented an apartment that I own. Another reason for my call, really. I wanted to offer you a keepsake."

"I don't need anything."

He smirked as she tried to depart again. He'd planned for that response.

"As you wish. Well, I'll give them to Mayor Mills," he stated purposefully. "Seems like she was the closest thing he had to family."

That comment got the Swan's attention. Without doubt. One second she was heading for the door; the next, she'd stopped in her tracks and looked at the box with new eyes. He believed the phrase in this land was "hook, line, and sinker.

"I'm not sure about that," she muttered, crossing the room and suddenly looking at the box with curiosity.

"No love lost there, I see. Look…" he grinned, removing the top of the box. He'd given away the dartboard, but the jacket, a few other newspaper clippings, the two-way radios…everything else was still inside. "I feel that all of this stuff is headed for the trash bin. You really should take something. Look…his jacket?"

She looked at the article of clothing for half a second before muttering, "No."

A surprise. With her penchant for leather jackets, he'd thought that might have been a winner. But not "the winner," not for him. He wanted her to take something else. Something that would help her. He just had to sell it right, and fortunately…well…he was a fair salesman. In some ways.

"Well, look. Your boy might like these, don't you think?" he urged, holding out the old radios for her. "You could play together."

"I don't-"

"No, please," he insisted, setting them on the counter for her. "They…they grow up so fast."

"Thanks," she whispered, reaching out to take them. Excellent. That was just excellent.

"You enjoy these with your boy. Your time together is precious, you know?" he pressed, one last blow, parent to parent, to ensure they ended up in the right hands for the right purposes. Henry believed. He was valuable. Just as Baelfire was valuable. She'd already missed the first ten years of his life; if Henry was the boy that the Seer had referenced…she needed to take as much time with her son as possible. "That's the thing about children," he added before she could leave. "Before you know it, you lose them…"

Parental advice, from one parent to another. Even if she didn't yet know it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1x08 is a fairly significant episode for Rumple, especially in this fiction. I did warn you that 1x01-1x11 would go fairly quickly with a pitstop in 1x08 that would take some time. Welcome to that pitstop, where I feel like we get a taste of what Rumple will do a little later in the season. It's really good to preview exactly what he is capable of when he wants to be.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter. This is a short chapter, I know, but I felt like it translated well from screen to page. And of course, sometimes it's the shortest chapters that have the most to say. A lot of the chapters for 1x08 divided out a bit odd. That's just what happens when there are a lot of little things happening and a lot of go-between in the episode from Storybrooke to the Enchanted Forest. And hey, the good news about it is that after 1x08 is done, we're just a hop, skip, and a jump from the really good stuff! Peace and Happy Reading!


	14. Change of Plan

Fucking Mayor Regina Mills.

Everything had been fine! Just fine! Perfectly, beautifully fine! Hell, he'd even gone so far as to say it was damn well fucking dandy!

Yes, Sheriff Graham was dead, but in one visit to his shop, he'd managed to affirm Emma Swan's intent to become the new Sheriff, and he'd given her a tool to share with Henry so that the pair could continue to do their work behind Regina's back. All in all, it should have amounted to a pretty damn good day for him.

But Regina Fucking Mills…sometimes she reminded him why he would have killed her in their world if he hadn't needed her so badly. He'd just cleaned up one of her messes for himself and the entire town, and just as he had, she'd gone and made another one when his back was turned like the child that she was.

It had been the middle of the afternoon, and he'd been feeling good about everything that had happened when Dove had called him, and his stomach dropped in his belly. Dove was a man of few words. It was why he preferred to use text messages for communication. So when Dove actually picked up his phone and called him, it was rarely a good thing.

"This better be good, Mr. Dove.

"Yeah, it is. Emma Swan came to see you this morning?" he questioned.

"Yes, to talk about her taking the Sheriff position."

"That's what I figured. I hate to burst your bubble, but it didn't last long. Regina just fired her."

The words traveled through him like electricity. His body shook and tingled as he considered the words he'd just heard, the words he hoped he hadn't heard. He felt his heart thudding away through his chest as he tried to contain his anger.

"You're sure?"

"I mean…I wasn't inside, but after she met with you, she went back to the police station. Regina showed up. A few minutes later, Emma left the station, clearly angry, with a small box of items in her hands. She practically threw it into the bug before she drove off. But she wasn't wearing any kind of badge, and it's too early for her to be going home. She's a nine to five kind of girl; she doesn't leave early. I stayed long enough to see Regina leave after she did. The pair stared at each other, the Mayor smiled, then locked the police building herself, and that was that. They got in their cars and left. Emma slammed the door hard enough I thought she'd break a window."

"Where is she now?"

"Back at the apartment, hasn't moved, and Mary Margaret isn't home from school yet."

Fucking Regina Mills. He should have known. He should have known that the woman who lost years of her life pursuing Snow White wouldn't just roll over and let Emma Swan take the role that had been held by her lap-wolf. He'd been planning this for fourteen days. Apparently, he hadn't been the only one planning something. What the hell was she playing at.

"So the reason I'm calling is to give you a heads up, boss," Dove continued, interpreting his silence as an invitation to continue to deliver him the bad news. "My friend Will Scarlet just called to inform me that tomorrow morning Regina is supposed to hold a small press conference in her office where she plans to formally appoint Sidney Glass as the new Sheriff."

"Sidney Glass? The editor of the newspaper."

Dove chuckled. "Yeah, my thoughts exactly. The guy doesn't exactly scream 'Sheriff Material.'"

"No, but he is in the Mayor's pockets…"

Not as good as being in her pants as Sheriff Graham had been, but Sidney Glass…he was the genie, the one that Regina had convinced to murder Snow White's father. Everyone in town knew that Glass yearned for Regina. He followed after her like a puppy dog. Making him Sheriff would be laughable to everyone in town, probably even Regina. But the choice made sense for that very reason. If it was true.

"How exactly does Scarlet know this?"

"He says his sources are his own, but trustworthy."

Fuck. He loved the idea of keeping sources private until it had the potential to work against him. But Scarlet had delivered information to Dove before. Whether or not he knew that, he turned around and gave that information to him. So far, the info that he'd given had always been accurate. Which meant that time to fix this new problem was limited. So limited that he considered for one brief, weak moment just letting it go and turning his attention to some other plan or idea. But then that moment passed.

He was angry. He didn't know what Regina was playing at, what her end goal in all this was other than to get rid of Emma Swan and send the town back into its unending sleep, but he knew that his plan was worth fighting for. So he got to work. He did what he had to do in order to solve this problem. He locked the shop up early that afternoon and went home. In his dusty old home office, he found exactly what he needed. One single shelf contained everything he'd "inherited" from his aunt on Storybrooke.

It took him less than an hour to find what he needed. That was no surprise. Regina may have cast the Curse, but it was always his. It figured that would play out in Storybrooke on this level too. Regina might be the Mayor, but no one knew more about Storybrooke than Mr. Gold. And right now, that knowledge was about to pay off. What was Regina playing at? He didn't know, but if this was any indication, then there was no time to waste. He had to make a plan, a good plan, one that was going to take time. Time he'd have, but only if he could accomplish his first step before Regina had that press conference and named Sidney Glass Sheriff. He hated starting his work before he was prepared for the end, but that was just how it had to be.

He'd arrived at the same time Mary Margaret had, home from the market it appeared, although the younger, non-handicapped woman moved faster than him into the apartment. He didn't even think that she saw him. When he arrived at the door, he could hear the two women talking inside, but Emma was the one that answered the door when he knocked. There was what appeared to be a toaster under her arm. It was so broken even he didn't think he could fix it, and that was saying something. Of course, so did the look on her face. Something broken, the loud music he'd heard when he'd pulled up behind Mary Margaret, the look on her face…someone was angry. Very angry indeed. He could use that.

"Good evening, Miss Swan. Sorry for the intrusion. There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Over her shoulder, in the kitchen, Mary Margaret suddenly chirped, "I'll let you two talk," and disappeared into another room. In this small place, their conversation wouldn't be private in the least, but he didn't particularly care. Allies in fights like these were good. And besides, it would save Emma the trouble of regurgitating every single sentence of this conversation later.

"Come on in," she exclaimed, opening the door for him.

"Thank you. I, uh…I heard about what happened. Such an injustice."

"Yeah, well, what's done is done."

He could work with anger. He could work with a willingness to fight. He couldn't work with someone willing to lay down and die. "Spoken like a true fighter."

"I don't know what chance I have. She's Mayor, and I'm…well…me."

"Miss Swan, two people with a common goal can accomplish many things. Two people with a common enemy can accomplish even more. How would you like a benefactor?"

"A benefactor?" she questioned. He smirked. Now, where had he last had a conversation like this? Ah, yes…from a man who knew how to recognize a desperate soul when he saw one. He couldn't hear Zoso now, not since he was human. But he knew enough to know the man was probably just as entertained as he was.

"You mind?" he gestured to the table, and both he and Emma took a seat. He laid the binder out on the table and opened it up, looking for what he knew was there. "You know, it really is quite shocking how few people study the town charter."

"The town charter?"

"Well, it's quite comprehensive. And the Mayor's authority? Well, maybe she's not quite as powerful as she seems. Ah!" he piqued, glancing down at his binder and finding the typewritten passage he'd located earlier. "For example: _'The office of Sheriff of Storybrooke is to be an elected position. When the office of Sheriff is in vacancy, the role of the Sheriff is to be filled by the Deputy after fourteen (14) days. If the Deputy refuses the job or is found to be unqualified, the Mayor of Storybrooke may elect a candidate to run for the office of Sheriff after a period of fourteen (14) days. If the candidate runs without opposition, then the candidate may take office. Should the candidate face opposition, then an election shall be called, and the office will be decided by popular vote of the citizens of Storybrooke, Maine._ '"

He smiled as he looked up at Emma, but she only sat there with her arms crossed, looking utterly unimpressed with his work. "Beautiful," she drawled sarcastically. "What's it mean?"

"It means that Regina is allowed to appoint someone to the office of Sheriff, but that individual can only take over if they're running unopposed."

"So…"

"So…technically Regina was out of bounds by firing you. She did it because the chain of succession states that the position should have gone to you. But now that you are fired, there is a way back."

"I'm listening."

"As long as there is someone else who wants the job, then it calls for a town election. The Sheriff will be elected by the citizens of Storybrooke. Not Mayor Mills."

Something in Emma Swan's gaze shifted suddenly. There was a twitch at the corner of her mouth as if she understood suddenly what he was trying to say but was too timid to actually assume it for herself. "So…"

"So, Miss Swan, if there were someone else, a fighter, who wanted the position, fired or not, all they'd have to do to stop Regina would be to declare their intent to run."

Finally, Emma smiled in triumph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter needed a bit of framing, but otherwise, it was a fairly simple one to write. Short again, but after the last chapter, I see that ya'll don't seem to mind the short chapters as much. Awesome!
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter. This was certainly a fun episode to write because I got to showcase Rumple's plan making abilities, even if they're not out in full force just yet. It's easy to see at this point how he develops his plan and how he thinks things through, and of course, how he reacts when he can't do that. Peace and Happy Reading!


	15. Next Steps

When he left Emma Swan the night before, he was confident that he'd done his job right by only doing part of it. He'd meant to inspire her to go and run for the office of Sheriff, and he felt certain he'd done that, but only by choosing to leave out certain details of the election. Like the debate. After all, Regina had located them in the United States of America. It was a democracy. Candidates weren't supposed to be voted into office just on a technicality or a popularity contest. The people had to know what they were voting for and who. When a Candidate for the position ran in opposition, the charter called for a debate. Somehow, he didn't imagine Mrs. Swan would be too pleased about the idea of debating, in fact he'd been so worried about her reaction to it that he'd left that part out of their conversation. He'd let her put her name in for the position, let her dream about it, decide that she wanted it more than she knew she did…then he'd make sure she knew about the debate. Hopefully, by that point, she'd be so determined to become the Sheriff that having to debate Sidney Glass would seem like a small obstacle to overcome.

But he knew it wasn't.

While he thought the idea of Sidney Glass becoming Sheriff was laughable, and he was somewhat convinced the town would agree, he had to remember that he had the Curse working against him. If they were in the Enchanted Forest and everyone had their memories intact, he had no doubt Emma Swan would win their hearts. But she was a stranger in a small town here. A stranger who made no secret of the fact that she was enemies with the Mayor. And Sidney Glass…he was familiar. He was highly unqualified, but he was friendly. He was gentle, and one might even say he was kind and good so long as his mouth wasn't pressed against his mistress's ass.

In a perfect world, Emma would be the obvious candidate. But in this Curse they were living in, they were in the furthest thing from the perfect world. However, after sleeping on it, after pacing the shop this morning and agonizing over what he was going to do, just when he was tempted to pull out the old spinning wheel instead of just imagining what it would be like to spin wool-he thought he had an idea.

It was risky. It involved several moving parts. It meant putting a lot of trust and faith in the idea that he knew Emma Swan and Regina and how they'd react to certain events that he was about to set in motion and if something went wrong, he knew that it was possible someone could end up dead.

For Baelfire, he was willing to take that risk.

The bad news was that for his plan he needed to work quickly. But the good news was that if his plan didn't work perfectly, and no one ended up dead, of course, he'd have one week to fix it. The Charter called for the election of the Sheriff to be announced one week prior to the event. He supposed that might mean he'd have at least a week, but he knew Regina. She wanted things her way, she was going to do just enough to make this happen but no more. He'd have a week. Would it be enough? There was only one way to find out.

That morning, when Dove sent him a message that Emma was on her way to the Mayor's office, he called his spy away and to him. While he awaited his arrival, he pulled a file he'd brought from home, one that he hadn't seen in more than eleven years and hadn't expected would ever come in handy. It was a copy of the report that he'd received on Emma when Regina had adopted Henry. It was her criminal history. A sealed juvenile record, he'd gotten it only by chance, but he'd kept it all these years. Perhaps Mr. Gold had hoped that one day it might come in handy. He hoped today was that day and, in anticipation, had made a couple of copies so he could keep the original, and as for this copy...he had a good idea where to send it.

In addition to the report he also grabbed the cloth that he'd been covering in lanolin the day before when Emma had first stopped by. It had still been drying but he gave it a fresh coat and then plopped it into a plastic bag. By the time that Dove arrived, everything was prepared.

"I have important work for you and not much time to explain it. Even then, I'm afraid this work is going to fall into the category of 'easier said than done.'"

"I'm listening," Dove announced without even a wince. He wasn't one to back down from challenges, at least not in this life.

So he handed him the file on Emma as well as a $100 bill. "Give this to one of your friends, Scarlet maybe. See that it finds its way to Sidney Glass for the evening addition of the mirror and make sure his sources are kept confidential." Dove nodded as he took the file. No questions. That's what he appreciated about this arrangement. But he wondered, would he feel the same way about the next part.

He handed Dove the bag with yhe lanolin soaked cloth. "This next part is of…let's call it questionable legality."

"It's a good thing my employer is a lawyer, then."

"Good answer, Mr. Dove. I'd like for you to arrange an explosion for me…at the Mayor's office."

He paused, just to look in Dove's eyes and see how he reacted to that bit of news. Nothing. Not even a wince. Nothing until Dove himself seemed to suspect the reason he'd stopped talking and said simply "Do you see me blinking?"

He smiled. "Not one bit, Mr. Dove. That's promising. Tonight, after the Mirror has been published Emma Swan will go to the Mayor's office. That's when you need to set the trap. After the events of today I'm sure the Mayor will be working late. Set up a bomb to go off. Nothing big, just flashy, a bit of fire, a lot of smoke, easily extinguished."

"I understand. But it does seem a bit dark for my usual work."

"Oh, worry not. Emma is fit enough, no matter what she feels about the Mayor she'll get her out in one piece. And if it makes you feel better, before you set the fire, you should call 911 first. I believe there is a payphone nearby, not traceable. Just be sure that before you go inside, you call the Mirror as well."

"The paper, Sir?"

"I give you instructions for a reason, Mr. Dove, I expect they won't be questioned. Unless of course you find yourself unable to-"

"No, Sir," he interrupted. "Scarlet to deliver the file. Then tonight when Emma Swan goes to the the Mayor call the Mirror, set the bombs, leave. That's when I'll call 911."

"Good," he beamed, noticing he'd adjusted the plan to align with his own priorities. "Excellent thinking, Mr. Dove. And of course you can rest assured that you'll be well compensated for this little…errand. I believe your parents just submitted a request for a room with more light. How convenient that one is about to become available."

Any nervous energy or stress that Dove might have been exuding suddenly seemed to vanish. In fact, he let out a sigh that seemed to be one of relief. "Thank you, Mr. Gold. That would be…I'd very much appreciate if they could get to the top of that list."

"And so it shall be, if you do this for me."

"I won't let you down, Sir."

"Good. That's very good, because there is one last thing that I'm going to need you to do. I need you to make this job…sloppy."

Suddenly Dove's confidence seemed to deflate. "Excuse me?" he shouted, going nervous again. "Sloppy? Sir…you…you want me to be caught?"

"Oh, no. No, no, lad, quite the contrary. I want me to be caught. Plant this…" he tapped his cane against the plastic bag the cloth resided in, "somewhere…visible."

"But, Sir-"

"It'll all work out for the best, Dove. Trust me."

But he didn't. And considering their history, not to mention his reputation, he couldn't exactly blame him for that. If it were him, he probably wouldn't trust him either, if only because he knew that if it pointed back to him too much all he had to do was offer up Dove on a silver platter to promote reasonable doubt and he'd be home free. He didn't trust him, but fortunately he watched as Dove took the packages he'd left him and muttered, "if you're sure…I'll take care of it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...probably not what you were expecting. But here's the thing, the idea of Rumple being the one actually to set the bomb in the Mayor's office was laughable to me. Don't get me wrong, I think he totally arranged the whole thing, but the idea that he himself did it didn't seem reasonable. The thing is, there's not a lot of time in this episode between Emma arriving, the bomb going off, and then the paper and firetruck arriving to capture the rescue, all before Rumple is back in his shop. And, in case you haven't noticed, Rumple gets along fine with his cane, but he's not that fast. And he's too well known. The more and more I thought about it, the more I felt that for sure, for him to make this happen, someone would have to have seen him, and because he's well known, they'd be able to identify him. So, this is another place where Dove comes in to save the day. Rumple is known, but Dove is just another face in the crowd. And he's young. And he's healthy. Gold getting in and out that quick completely unseen? Unlikely. Dove getting in and out that quick completely unseen? That was a scenario that worked for me. And, asking him to be sloppy about it, the thought that he wants to be caught explains why we see him the way we see him in the next chapter. He may not have done it, but he wants Emma to think he did.
> 
> Big thank yous going out to RolfB for continuing to comment on my chapters. This is the part where I wait anxiously for more of them to come in because I've sort of "changed" something. Even though this still sticks with canon, it's probably not the way most of you pictured this going. I hope you'll feel like this change was appropriate and well thought out. I hope you'll think it doesn't break too much with tradition and the spirit of these fictions. I hope...Peace and Happy Reading!


	16. The New Plan

His plan was convoluted. "Easier said than done," he'd told Dove. And he meant it. It had taken him most of last night to figure it out himself. In fact, even now, when he wanted to think about it, it required him to concentrate. There had been a lighter in the box of things that Graham had owned. He pulled it free now as he sat in his shop and tried to think. He stared into the flame, at what he knew was coming, trying to let his mind float and think freely. But it wasn't what he wanted. He wanted his spinning wheel. There was one in the back of his shop for the longest time, and when he thought about this plan, he was sorely tempted to use it. But he resisted. In his mind, he pictured his aunts spinning and toiling away, the comforting motion of two steps forward three steps back, the way the wheel turned with each press of the treadle, the fibers of freshly shorn, newly treated wool forming into thread beneath his fingers and doubling that thread and creating yarn fit for a King…

When he thought of that, his plan didn't seem as convoluted. Complicated, perhaps, but when he pictured himself spinning and recalled those memories down to the tiniest of details, it all fell into place perfectly for him. It wasn't the same as spinning, but it was something.

At this very moment, Emma was preparing to announce she was running for Sheriff. He was happy about that. Thrilled really. But he had no idea how Emma would fair in a debate or how she'd hold up against Regina and Sidney acting as the dynamic duo.

Emma running for Sheriff wouldn't be enough to win it for her. But he still had to play carefully. He didn't know nearly enough about the Savior to predict her actions as he hoped, but his one reassurance was that he did know Regina, and he knew how Regina treated Sidney and how the genie had reacted to his Evil Queen. The file he'd prepared for the Mirror that night, the evening edition, it would lead to a smear campaign. Emma would announce she was running, Regina would be angry and scared and desperate, so when that information fell into Sidney's lap, he'd run to Regina to decide what to do with it. And Regina, predicable as she was, she would have Sidney print it. That much he was sure about. The next bit…that was where he hoped that he'd learned enough about Emma Swan to predict her actions.

She was a fighter; she'd proven that much. She didn't step down in the face of fear, and she didn't lay down and ignore a challenge; her destruction of the toaster told him that. He hoped that she'd respond as she had every other obstacle the Evil Queen had thrown at her…with confrontation. The upcoming and unexpected debate would give Regina plenty of work to keep her at the office, especially with Henry having a session with Hopper that night. People would talk about the article, or Emma would buy it, or Mary Margaret would call her, and one way or another, the Savior would end up at the town hall with Mayor Mills. There would be a confrontation. And then…

Bang.

She'd be a hero. Emma was young, and healthy, and prepared to get out of a burning building. Regina was less than equipped, especially without her magic. But Emma, pure as she was, wouldn't leave the mayor inside a burning building. She'd make sure Regina got out safe. He only hoped that Dove called the paper and got them there on time to capture the footage because it wasn't so much being a hero that would get her elected. Becoming a hero was just the first phase. It was the second that was crucial to getting her elected.

Standing up to Regina was one thing…standing up to him was another thing entirely.

"Make it sloppy," he'd told Dove. He wanted to be caught. But he didn't want to be caught by just anyone, oh no, no, no. He wanted to be caught by Emma. The lanolin she'd smelled yesterday, the brushing of it on the cloth…it had all been a coincidence then, but now he considered it a happy little miracle. She wasn't likely to forget a smell like that any time soon. And smell was one of the best ways to get the memory working again. She'd remember it was him. And though she might not know about Dove and therefore might not come to the right conclusion, exactly…she'd come to the conclusion that he wanted her to come to. He'd set the fire so she would appear to be a hero and win the hearts of the Storybrooke citizens.

It wasn't his ultimate plan. But it was what he wanted her to think was his plan, at least for now. Because at the end of the day, he knew that she wouldn't agree to take part in any kind of rigging of the election. She was a proud woman, Miss Swan. She'd want to win based on her own merits. She wouldn't be manipulated, or at least so she'd think.

But the town could be. And that was precisely what he was counting on; exposure. She'd expose him. Legally she would have no proof that he had done it because he hadn't. Everything would be conjecture. But because she was as noble as her father, she'd come clean to the town; she'd stand up to him by unmasking him. How, he wasn't sure about that part yet, he hoped it would be public, but all that mattered would be that she'd do it. And the result? The town would follow after her like moths to the flame. Emma would win. Regina would lose.

It was convoluted and complicated, but at its heart, it was so simple! Graham had said it himself before he'd died, he didn't have any friends; most people hated him. It was one reason why he used Dove to collect his rent. The Swan might not be easily manipulated…but the town could be, and the Swan standing up for what was right at the same time she confronted him…that might be exactly what he needed.

Suddenly his concentration burst as light of a different kind flooded his shop. It was from the door to his shop being opened.

"Regina," he smiled, snapping the lighter closed as she flipped his sign to closed. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been expecting this conversation. In fact, if this was what he was expecting, then the word "conversation" was to be used loosely. "Shall I move some things? Make a bit of space for your rage?"

"You found that loophole in the town charter."

He shrugged it off, and suddenly they were standing at that apple tree all over again. He didn't want her to know that he was awake, that he had his memories, or knew what was really going on here. But he'd like for her to be suspicious. He'd like to keep her on her toes, keep her guessing. And sometimes, she really did make it all too easy.

"Legal documents, contracts, if you like, always been a fascination of mine," he explained, moving around his counters.

"Yes, you love to trifle with technicalities."

"I like small weapons, you see. The needle, the pen, the fine point of a deal. Subtlety. Not your style, I know."

"You're a bastard," she growled.

"Oh," he chuckled. Name-calling. Without her magic, she was reduced to something a small child might do. She wasn't exactly up to the childlike temper tantrums of her sister, perhaps, but this was still a tantrum because it didn't matter if she knew he was awake or not; she was well aware of the same things he was. The Curse was breaking. After twenty-eight years of winning, someone had finally arrived to take everything she held dear, and he was excited for it. She, on the other hand, would do anything to stop it. And name-calling, well…he knew that was the least of what she was capable of, especially if she had magic stored away, which he was now firmly in belief of after Graham's death.

"I think your grief's getting the better of you, Regina. Shame what happened to Graham."

"Don't you talk about him!" Regina scowled, advancing on him. "You know nothing!"

"What is there to know? He died." A blatant lie. What had the coroner said? Aneurysm? Natural causes? Potentially. But Dove had reported to him that Graham had dropped dead after breaking things off with Regina and going with Emma. And he knew of one other thing that would cause a man to drop dead like that—a crushed heart. And what a coincidence…the last person to have his heart was none other than the woman in front of him.

"Are you really going up against me?" she questioned as if in disbelief. Odd thing. Whether as Mr. Gold and Mayor Mills or Rumpelstiltskin and the Evil Queen, they'd never precisely gotten along as friends. Why this surprised her wasn't really a mystery? She was scared. She knew she might lose. But, as long as they were still playing these roles, she'd assigned them…

"Not directly," he answered carefully. "We are, after all, both invested in the common good. We're just picking different sides."

"Well, I think you picked a really slow horse this time. It's not like you to back a loser."

"She hasn't lost yet."

"She will."

"Never underestimate someone who's acting for their child."

"He's not her child. Not legally."

He smiled. "Oh, now who's trifling with technicalities?"

"Go to hell."

He let out a snort at her retort. "So that's what it's come to? Childish name-calling unbefitting even of a teenager?"

"I don't have time for this," she spat before heading to the door.

"No, of course, you don't; you've got a debate to plan."

That brought her to a standstill.

"Debate?"

Suddenly he was glad she'd stopped by. He'd wondered if she'd know about the debate, it was the one thing he needed her to be aware of to ensure she'd be in place for his plan to work. This little chat allowed him to remind her of the rules for this upcoming election.

"Odd, one would think that the Mayor would have brushed up on the town charter before attempting to circumvent it."

"Enough. Just tell me what you know."

"Well, it's quite simple, really. This election requires a debate between the candidates. The people need to know who they're voting for, what policies each candidate will be supporting or not supporting, what changes they'll be implementing. That's how an election works, Regina. It's not as if you are a queen ruling over all of us."

He'd add the last bit just for his own entertainment. And what entertainment it was! There was a slight pause between them as she considered his words. Her breath hitched, and something dark in her eyes flickered as her back straightened and then slumped in an undignified yet purposeful way. She'd fallen back into her own self for a moment. Then tried to hide it. Because she suspected he knew something but didn't actually know. It was worth it.

"No. Of course not."

"Of course not. Which is why the charter calls for a debate. You have to give one week of announcements before that, so…I'd say if you want this election to happen soon and you should, seeing as how you fired Storybrooke's only officer yesterday, you have some work to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow at the start but a fun one at the end because of Regina's conversation with him. I like being able to frame things. I like being able to take the scene further and let him add in there a few little snipes at Regina when he can. I think it keeps her on her toes.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter and assuring me that the change was either expected or not something that would ruin the story. Whew! That's a relief. I hope you'll enjoy the beginning of this one, even if it is slower; it really gives you insight into how he's playing to Emma and Regina in this episode and how far ahead he's actually thinking. Also, this was another episode I was able to steal some time. There are a lot of outfits in this episode that suggests time, and there has to be time for things like debates and elections to be put together, so this was a good place to drag it out a bit. I hope you won't mind. Peace and Happy Reading!


	17. Better Than Planned

To his amazement, everything had gone better than he initially hoped it would. It wasn't often that he got to say such things or even think them, but it was the truth. Everyone had done exactly what he'd wanted them to and most importantly they'd responded the way he wanted them to respond.

Regina had gone back to town hall as he'd hoped. He didn't need Dove to tell him that she was working late because a few hours after he spoke with her she called. The call had been business as usual, which was what he found unusual about it. After their spat he didn't think she'd have been able to address him as she did, but still, she made the request to buy a piece of land from him. The land itself was worthless, but he charged her twice what it was worth out of spite. When he pressed her about what she wanted it for she'd only stated that she was looking after the well-being of _her_ child. He smiled. It sounded as if a grudge match was in its infancy, and it appeared to be curtsy of him. Oh, how he loved getting under her skin. That was about the only thing that made mapping out the deal for the land, doing ordinary business on a day meant to be anything but ordinary tolerable.

And then, a few hours ago, just as the sun had been going down he'd heard knock on his door. Odd, considering it was a public establishment and open for business. By the time he made his way to the front whoever had knocked was gone. Hanging on the handle outside was a blue plastic bag with the evening edition of The Mirror. He didn't subscribe to the evening edition, but someone had obviously been told to drop one off to him, and when he opened it, the reason why was clear as day. There it was. Front page, out in the open for everyone to see: Emma Swan's past. It was a job well done on Dove's part. Though he had to admit…arranging a debate, buying his land, selling out Henry's birthmother, Regina could be quite the effective worker when she was properly motivated.

An hour or so later Dove had sent him a message. _"I don't know how you do it. Emma just went into the Mayor's offices, paper in hand. She looks angry."_

That was good. He was thrilled with that kind of news. But now that he had everyone right where he wanted them he knew that he didn't have time to gloat with Dove. Immediately he sent Dove back a message.

_"Sounds like you have work to do."_

And then he waited. And waited. And waited. He was in the back, working on polishing some old silver when he felt it. A small tremor. He smiled as he listened to the light tinkling of some wind chimes and the unicorn mobile that hung in the front shop. It wasn't much. But he hadn't expected much. The Mayor's office wasn't far from here but it was enough of a distance that he wasn't expecting to feel it. A few short minutes later his phone buzzed.

_Mirror called, cops called, building on fire. Given the circumstances, I'm going to make myself scarce._

Given the circumstances he could understand that thinking and chose not to reply. There was no need. No matter what happened he was certain he would find out about it come morning. Good news or bad the entire town would be talking about it. That was what he thought would happen. Which was why he'd put the silver and polish away, and was standing in the front room wiping his hands in preparation to leave when none other than Emma Swan burst through his door. In one hand she clutched the cloth he'd given to Dove and in her eyes…fire burned.

He couldn't help but smile. This was unplanned and unexpected. It was better than he'd ever imagined. "Loads of visitors today," he commented sarcastically as she entered. She was angry already, clearly, but he wanted her good and pissed off. His comment seemed to succeed at that as she slammed his door shut. "Do hope you're not going to break my little bell."

"You set the fire!" she exclaimed with her teeth grit together.

"I've been right here, Miss Swan."

"Take a whiff!" she ordered, advancing on him with a charred ball of fabric that he'd created and given to Dove to plant. "It smells like your sheep crap oil. Turns out its flammable."

"Oh. Are you sure? There's some construction working on at City Hall at the moment. There's loads of flammable solvents used in construction."

"Why did you do it?"

"'If' I did it," he corrected, the lawyer in him already moving to make sure that his ass was covered. He knew it was of course. He'd been to Granny's for dinner on purpose tonight, but he wanted her to know it too. "If I did it, that would be because you cannot win without something big. Something like, uh…oh, I don't know. Being the hero in a fire?"

"How could you even know I'd be there at the right time?"

"Maybe Regina's not the only one with eyes and ears in this town. Or maybe…I'm just intuitive–were I involved," he smiled. Unfortunately, they hadn't known each other long enough for her to belief the truth that all people were predictable to a fault. She was young. She'd learn. Especially living in this town.

"I could've run and left her there."

"Not the type."

She shook her head. "I can't go along with this."

"You just did. This is just the price of election, Miss Swan."

"A price I'm not willing to pay," she breathed tossing the cloth onto the table in front of him. "Find another sucker."

"Okay, go ahead – expose me," he dared. "But if you do, just think about what you'll be exposing and what you'll be walking away from."

He bit his cheek. He wanted it to happen and yet it made him nervous. Which of those lives he'd led was the culprit of that? The coward? Mr. Gold? The Lawyer? It didn't matter. He just needed everything to go according to plan.

"Oh, yes. And, um…who you might be disappointing." Emma opened the door, but glared at him on the way out. He only smiled. Beautiful. Much better than he planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, shorter than even I like the short ones to be, but it's something we already saw, and I suppose it gets the job done. Not in any kind of terribly exciting way, but it does what it needs to do.
> 
> Thank you to RolfB for your comments on the previous chapter. Short or not hope you'll find this one acceptable. And oh yeah, that deal for the land, I hope that doesn't take anyone by surprise. It's pretty much right where it's supposed to be in the timeline if you know which future episode it's a reference to. Peace and Happy Reading!


	18. Dramatic Theatrics

Everything had gone exactly as planned and maybe even better if the visit from Emma Swan suggested anything. And then, day by day, it wasn't at all like he'd planned. There was one week between the fire at town hall, the day Emma and Sidney both announced their plans to run, and the day of the debate, the same day that Storybrooke would be asked to cast their ballots. One week was a lot of time to think, a lot of time to panic. It was a lot of time for the signs that Mary Margaret was making, the same signs that depicted Emma to be a hero because she'd pulled the Mayor from the fire, to get on the Savior's nerves. It was a lot of time for her to come clean to the town, to tell them that she wasn't the hero they thought, that the fire was staged by none other than the notoriously hated Mr. Gold. It was time for her to step down because she wanted to fight fair and time for the town to rally around her and tell her that they wanted her. It was time enough for everything to work out just like he'd planned.

And yet, it didn't happen.

Each night this week, he'd gone to Granny's, but it wasn't because he actually liked her burgers, or maybe that he enjoyed being charged extra for the pickles. The truth was that sometimes alone in his shop, he felt isolated and cut off from the rest of the town. But Granny's diner…that was the heart of Storybrooke. It was the place one went to get news before it was fit to print and the place to overhear all the town gossip. Night after night, he walked into Granny's this week to order a burger, not because he wanted one for dinner, but just because he was waiting to receive the stares from angry citizens. He was hoping for confirmation that Emma had finally told the tale of what really happened that night of the fire, or at least her version of it.

Night after night, he was sorely disappointed.

He was getting nervous. He didn't have a backup plan. He didn't have anything to force the girl to tell the world. And without her to stand up to him…there would just be her; Emma Swan. Yes, she was the woman who had saved the mayor from a fire and held the job of deputy for weeks now, but thanks to him, she was now also the teenage, jailbird mother. He had done her character a favor at the same time he had simultaneously done it a disservice. To be fair, he never would have done that if he thought there was a chance that she wouldn't act appropriately and not tell the world what he'd done. He'd have thought of another way to get her to that hall to save Regina if that were the case. But now...

Was the good enough to outweigh the bad? He didn't know. All he knew on the day of the debate was that there was still time. Not a lot of it, admittedly, but he'd learned in his time that the last minute of deals could always garner great results. Timing could be key, but it wasn't always everything. So, as long as the people of Storybrooke hadn't voted yet, as long as there was still a public forum that they could gather together to hear Emma speak, potentially even confess, there was still time.

That was the main reason he'd come. Of course, as a knowledgeable man in Storybrooke, he'd planned to vote, but if things had happened differently, he probably would have skipped the pomp and circumstances. For his own purposes, hopefully, he arrived at the last possible "acceptable" second. He wasn't surprised to see that it was busy. With Emma's reputation, he could have guessed that people would come out to ogle her either for the good reasons or for the bad ones. He did have a flare of hope when he looked around the room, a brief flash of movement by the stage. It was the curtain. Open now, someone in the wings had pulled it back to look out at the crowd; someone with blonde hair. Emma Swan.

He could feel her eyes on him. Though it wasn't the best way to do it, he kept his eyes on her. He made it a warning gaze on purpose, something threatening and terrifying. Though it was his deepest desire for her to come clean and endear herself to the people of Storybrooke, he wasn't going to let her know that yet. In his experience, some people, when stressed, could do the wrong thing. But this child, the Savior, the one who had darkness eliminated from her before birth, she would do the right thing under stress. She hadn't turned him in yet, but as he stared back at her, it occurred to him just how perfect it would be for her to do it here, in front of everyone, with him watching. So he gave her a threatening look, one that he hoped conveyed to her that she was forbidden to tell what she knew, one he hoped that she'd take as a challenge. Archie would probably use the term "reverse psychology," he liked to call it manipulation at its best.

As Emma disappeared behind the curtain again he took a deep breath. He hoped he hadn't judged the Savior wrong. If he had, he was going to have to think up a new plan. He took an empty seat near the back, right along the aisle. It wasn't there for everyone to see, but it was easy for Emma to see, and at the moment, that was all he cared about. Right on time, Archie and the candidates walked onto the stage and took their seats to the applause and whooping of the crowd. He remained calm as he continued to stare at Emma Swan. Whether or not she'd been looking forward to the debate or felt prepared for it, she at least looked professional. She'd dressed up today. It was the only time he'd ever seen her in a skirt. But her posture was wrong; sad and defeated. Not good for someone wanting to show the town they were confident.

All applause died down as the grasshopper moved to the podium. "People of Storybrooke, I am Doctor Archibald Hopper. I've been asked to moderate this debate by Mayor Mills as a neutral party. Of course, I've been asked to remind you that following this debate, there will be an election, a period for you to cast your votes for the candidate that you believe will best serve you, the citizens of Storybrooke. Now…I just want to begin by saying that tragedy has brought us here, but we are faced with this decision. And now, we ask only that you listen with an open mind and to please vote your conscience. So, without further ado, I'd like to introduce you to the candidates: Sidney Glass and Emma Swan. Glass…Swan…sounds like something that a decorator would make you buy…"

The bug chuckled at his sorry excuse for a joke, and for the first time, he stopped looking at Emma and felt his gaze automatically draw to Archie. He'd never known the cricket to be nervous before or make bad jokes, but suddenly he'd never missed the chirping so much.

"Wow, crickets. Okay, uh…uh, Mr. Glass, your opening statement."

There was an appropriate amount of applause as Archie yielded the microphone to the former genie, and he gave a smile worthy of any politician. "I just want to say that if elected, I want to serve as a reflection of the best qualities of Storybrooke-honesty, neighborliness, and strength. Thank you," he muttered before returning to his seat.

Short, sweet, the bit about being a reflection was a bit ironic but otherwise well worded…if he weren't actively rooting for the other side, Mr. Gold would have been appreciative.

"And Emma Swan," Archie introduced.

He shifted in his seat a bit as the Savior took her place, just enough to make sure she hadn't forgotten where he sat. Then he stilled and continued his stare. On the outside, he hoped he was projecting venom. He hoped she'd take it as a warning. But inside, he felt like his heart might burst right out of his chest. Time was running out. This was her last chance. He needed her to do this. He needed her to challenge him. People with a common goal could accomplish a lot. People with a common enemy could accomplish more. It could get an outsider, a criminal, and a teenage mother elected Sheriff. She just had to do what she knew was right!

"You guys all know I have what they call a, uh…troubled past. But, you've been able to overlook it because of the, um…'hero thing.' But here's the thing…the fire was a setup."

Yes.

A buzz of energy went through the crowd as she said her words, something that reminded him of the feeling of magic. His heart drummed against his chest while he continued to watch. Emma's eyes found him for the slightest of moments and then-

"Mr. Gold agreed to support me in this race, but I didn't know that that meant he was going to set a fire. I don't have definitive evidence, but I'm sure. And the worst part of all this was-the worst part of all this is, I let you all think it was real. And I can't win that way. I'm sorry."

He could have laughed. He wanted to laugh with joy! Oh, he'd imagined something like this happening all week, but he could never have dreamed it would be so perfectly timed, so public as it was! This…this was perfection! This was so much better than he'd imagined. It just needed one final touch.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself to his feet. He cast his eyes down to the ground mocking something like what he imagined embarrassment would look and feel like. And then he left.

Outside he finally let his demeanor drop. The corners of his mouth curled up. He didn't burst out laughing as he had wanted to, but he did walk away smiling with confidence. That had gone beautifully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! That thing he's longed for since he started this. Can he read people, or can he read people? Of course, at this point, he also knows that Emma has no darkness in her, so I'm sure that helped, but it was really fun writing 1x08 and seeing him work through a plan and then watching it play out even as he was nervous it wouldn't.
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments on the last chapter, RolfB! I'm really appreciative! There is only one more 1x08 chapter left, and then we are moving on. I hope that you'll enjoy the wrap-up as Mr. Gold comes clean with Emma and lets her know just how good he is at all of this! Peace and Happy Reading!


	19. Lessons on Power Play

He didn't cast his vote that day. He didn't stay long enough. He'd never felt guilt about what he'd done, and he couldn't dare to be ashamed, so he had to pretend. After well over one hundred years of watching others consumed by guilt and shame, he had a pretty good idea of how to do that. So he closed the shop early, went to the grocery store on the way home, and had himself an early evening in front of the television where the local news informed him, two seconds before Dove called, that Emma Swan had been elected the new Sheriff.

She'd won. He'd succeeded. Emma Swan, the town's Savior, was in a position of power. Admittedly, it wasn't the same kind of power that the Evil Queen had, but power was power. She had it. Not only that, she had power in a World Without Magic, a world in which she'd been raised. It had been earn, not forcefully taken, but granted to her by others. Regina had power, but she'd never had it without having magic. Everything she was here, it was by her own design, by magic. And yes, he had accepted that somehow she did have some access to magic here, but whatever that access was, it couldn't be much; the Curse wouldn't allow it. The way he saw it, all things considered, Regina and Emma were evenly matched. Would that stand? Forever? No, not once there was magic in the world. But being the product of True Love, Emma would certainly have magic too when the time came. She'd be powerful but untrained. She'd have no idea what she was doing. Regina was trained, but what she had inside of her, that magic that Cora had given her, it would be a fraction of what the Savior would have. Where would the chips fall when they had magic again?

He didn't care.

He was intrigued by the concept, but it was for that reason that he had to keep telling himself that he didn't care. He had one goal in this world: get his son back. What became of Storybrooke, of Regina and Emma, after he had his boy back by his side…it was of little consequence.

One thing he did care about, however, was that the girl knew all of this. He wanted Emma to know, to understand exactly what had happened in these last few days. Right now, she thought…well…he didn't know exactly what she'd be thinking, but he knew what he wanted her to be thinking. He wanted her to know that he'd played her like a musician played a fine instrument. He wanted her to know that she hadn't shamed him or guilted him but that it had been a part of his plan from the very beginning. He wanted her to know that Regina might have been Mayor, but he ran this town. And one day, he wanted her to know that this Curse had all been him. Cast by Regina or not, they were here for him and Baelfire. He would take responsibility for everything, and even then…he'd feel not one bit of guilt. One day she'd know it all…

But for now, he'd settle for letting her know about the election.

The next morning, Dove informed him that even with the night festivities at Granny's, Emma left Mary Margaret's apartment right on time, bright and early. The new Sheriff was going to start her position off on the right foot. None of this mattered, though. Because, by the time Emma left, he was already at the police station. It was a power play, he wanted her to know his power, and sometimes the best way to do that was not to state it but to exhibit it. He didn't need to tell her he had a key; he just needed to show up and be there…and perhaps leave a haunting gift at the same time.

Sheriff Graham's leather jacket, the one he'd offered her before, and she'd hesitated before saying "no," he let himself into Emma's new office now and hung it on the coat rack. She could do as she pleased with it; take it home, burn it, leave it there as an ever-present reminder of why she was here…he was betting on that last one. He waited down the hall from the offices when she arrived, over by the bathrooms. She didn't notice there was another human in the building when she entered. No, Emma Swan had a singular destination in mind, and she walked right past him in her effort to get back to the station. As she turned on lights and unlocked the door to the office, she didn't seem to notice him either. No, her attention was right where he'd wanted it to be. On the jacket he'd hung up on the hook.

What a wonderful feeling to know that he didn't need Dark Ones or even the Seer to be able to enact his plans. He just needed his hundreds of years of experience.

"The Sheriff's jacket," he stated, getting her attention. "I thought you might want it after all."

Emma let out a breath at his appearance. Interesting. He'd expected an attitude after what happened, but…was that a smirk he saw on her face. "You do know I'm armed, right?"

Yes, certainly a smirk, one of pride perhaps. It was a smirk he was going to enjoy wiping away.

"It's all part of the act, my dear—political theatre in an actual theatre. I knew no one was going to vote for you unless we gave you some kind of extraordinary quality, and I'm afraid saving old Regina's arse from the fire just wasn't going to do that. We had to give you a higher form of bravery. They had to see you defy me. And they did."

Emma's check lifted at the same time her eyes widened. The smirk was suddenly gone. "No way," she breathed. "There's no way you planned that!"

"Everyone's afraid of Regina, but they're more afraid of me," he smiled. "By standing up to me, you won them over. It was the only way." People were predictable, especially Saviors who had not an ounce of darkness in them. She'd learn that. All in good time.

"You knew I'd agree."

"Oh, yeah. I know how to recognize a desperate soul."

Emma stood there, her arms crossed over her chest in shock as everything seemed to unravel and fall into place before her. It was good she saw how far his limits went now. That could be handy for later. After all…the Curse wasn't broken yet.

"Why did you do this?"

"We made a deal some time back, Miss Swan. We established that you owed me a favor. I know that can be a bad feeling, owing someone. Now that you're Sheriff," he smiled sinisterly and paused for effect, "I'm sure we'll find some way for you to pay back what you owe me. Congratulations," he muttered before he hobbled out of the room.

That couldn't have gone better if he tried. He'd just had a perfect week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it, a nice "mic drop" moment for our dear Rumple. But of course, we all knew that was coming. The hardest thing about this chapter was a problem we've all faced before, and that's just getting Rumple into the scene since he randomly appears without warning again. In my mind, the easiest way to get him in without Emma noticing was to get him in before she was in the office.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter. Thus concludes 1x08, our brief pit stop in the quick saga of 1x01-1x11. But, if you are afraid that we're going to get bogged down, fear not. 1x09, 1x10, and 1x11 only takes up three chapters. Yeah, that's how fast it goes. Once we're into 1x12, things really pick up for Gold, and there's a lot that I think you're going to enjoy! So stick with me for a little while longer, and onward we go! Peace and Happy Reading!


	20. The Magic of the Lamp

So far, so good. Or at least "good" in a sort of way. Emma Swan had been Sheriff for a week. In fact, today marked the conclusion of her first full week on the job. And so far…no major developments. He supposed he shouldn't be disappointed at that. He had to remind himself to take things one step at a time and then sometimes rest in the step that had been taken. Emma was the Sheriff, the holidays were next week, and the weather centers were issuing warnings already that the weather would turn nasty before then. He knew he shouldn't expect much at this time and yet he was disappointed.

It was desperation talking. That was all it was. He'd waited for centuries, and now that he was standing in front of the Savior, the idea of being here in the same world as Bae for months, if not years on end, without being with his son felt like torture. The logical part of his mind knew this needed time to breathe; the parent in him didn't want to wait.

But Dove had been following her almost constantly all week and had nothing exciting to report. She'd done what he would have expected her to do in a new position. She'd started wearing the badge, responded to a call about fresh graffiti some kids had left, dealt with domestic disputes, and according to Dove, she was currently working on a case that involved two homeless children. Nothing exciting, nothing that would lead to the Curse being broken. She hadn't even been by to see him once, not after the confession he'd left her with, which he had to admit, left him just as disappointed as her lack of progress with the Curse. No, after telling her exactly how she'd won that election, he hadn't expected her to come by and want tea and crumpets. Still, he'd figured that a woman like that, the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, would take the weekend to cool down, get her head together, then come marching in to tell him that she wasn't going to stand for anything like that ever again. She'd try to put him in his place, he'd remind her exactly where his place was and where they stood, and they'd part with a timid arrangement to stay out of each other's way until they needed one another, and that would be that. But it hadn't happened. And that was a shame.

He was ready for something to happen. He needed something to happen. As he rubbed and polished the once magical genie lamp to perfection, he dared to wish for it. He wished for an idea. He wished for a way to jump-start things once more. He wished for Dove to report something that might lead him to cross paths with Emma Swan and let the Curse begin to crack again. He'd take anything; an idea, an action, anything. Anything! He wished!

And then the bell on the front door rang, and he looked up to see none other than Emma Swan coming through his door, their first interaction since after the election. He smiled as he set the lamp down upon its cloth, trying not to let her see how his hands shook. He wished…and it had happened. Wishes from a genie were just about the worst way to get what one wanted. There was no magic here, the genie of this lamp was free, nothing had happened, it was all coincidence…but that didn't exactly stop his mind from racing and his hands from shaking as he tried not to think about it.

"Emma," he piqued just as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. It was probably Dove, warning him too late that she was on her way in. The question was why. He knew from Dove that she'd been busy the last day or so trying to find the parents of a couple of children who tried to steal from Dark Star Pharmacy. What that had to do with him…he didn't know. But he'd take anything that got things going again.

He had…hoped…

"How lovely to see you. I'm flattered you'd take time off your busy schedule for me. What could I do for you, Sheriff?" he asked politely.

She glared at him but unhappily stepped forward and set an object down on the red velvet he had in front of him. "I'm looking for information on this old compass. Any idea where it could have come from?"

Yes…and no.

"Well, well," he sighed, allowing Mr. Gold to evaluate it as he might have before Rumpelstiltskin woke from his sleep. "Look at the detail. You know, this is crystal. This jeweled setting…despite the rather unfortunate shape it's in, this is actually a very unusual piece," he concluded, laying it out on the table for her. "The person who owned this obviously had great taste."

"And where would someone like that buy it?"

"Right here, of course."

It was a half-truth. He had half-memories of it in his shop, hazy memories of it being purchased when he'd first bought the shop. Still, because they were fuzzy, he knew it was a false memory, something that had never really happened, only something that the Curse wanted him to believe had happened. So yes…he knew its Storybrooke "history," but he also recognized it from another life. And sadly, in that other life, he'd been too busy at the time to pay close attention to the meaning behind it. He'd seen it in the hands of two children, the two children that Regina had been seen with in the Enchanted Forest. She'd taken them from their father. Odd…Dove's last report said that Emma was helping two children today. Children separated from their father. That wasn't a happy ending. But a reunion would be. And a happy ending could only mean one thing…the Curse continuing to break. That would be a good thing. He'd tried hard not to be too hasty after the election and just to let things play out as they might, but it had been a week without any significant progress or event. He was ready for one.

"You know him?!"

"Indeed. A piece like this is difficult to forget."

"Do you happen to remember who bought it?"

He chuckled. Yes…and no. His half-hazy memories of the compass didn't help him, and he knew there was no paperwork on it simply because it had never really been in this shop. But, the woodcutter that the children had belonged to in the Enchanted Forest, his face was familiar. He'd seen him before, every time he took his car in to be serviced. But he had a role to play here. Dove had told him that Emma had gone to the Sheriff's office and the kids that she was helping had been caught with Henry; he couldn't rule out the idea that Regina had her suspicious little nose in everything. He had an illusion to keep intact. So while he might remember the individual's name right now because he was familiar but he knew that the memories of the compass were old enough that no human would. He'd have to fake it. There were just some things the Savior wasn't ready to know.

"Well, I'm good with names, Miss Swan, but maybe not that good," he smiled, heading for the box he kept his notecards in. There wasn't one for the compass in it. But Emma didn't need to know that. And he…he needed to get back on her good side, to regain her trust after what happened in the election. He wanted this Curse broken. Having her angry and at a distance to him in the last week obviously hadn't been the answer to that. Therefore, logically, getting back into her good graces might change that.

"However, as luck would have it, I do keep quite extensive records. And…yes, here we are!" He plucked an empty notecard out from the back of the bunch but kept it close so she wouldn't see his bluff. Emma didn't miss a beat.

"What's your price?" she asked maintaining that glare that he was certain she'd inherited from her mother.

"Forgiveness."

"How about tolerance?"

He smiled. Start negotiations low, counter high, meet in the middle at the compromise. T'was the pawnbroker's creed, right up there with "Buy low, sell high." He should have asked a bit more from her by all accounts, but he found her counter was acceptable…for now.

"Well, that's a start. The compass was purchased by a Mr. Michael Tillman," he dutifully informed her.

"Anything else?"

He shook his head. "Just a name. But I generally find that's all that one needs," he smiled. It was enough to lead her to the car shop and the children's father and from there…another crack in his once-perfect Curse. "Good luck with your investigation!" he called as she turned to leave without even a "thank you." He was okay with that. He didn't need things like gratitude. He needed his son.

The second she was out of his shop he glanced over at the lamp still sitting where he'd left it when Emma came into the shop. He shuddered as the memory of Emma Swan's reappearance rolled over him once more. It wasn't the lamp. He didn't want to believe for even one second that it was the lamp. There was no magic to spare here in Storybrooke, and there was no genie inside!

Although, distant memories of another life reminded him that of all the magic in the world they'd once belonged to, Genie Magic was perhaps the most mysterious and dangerous. No one knew how it worked or way, only that it did. And however it worked, it had always been clear that the lamp of a genie played a role and was imbued with its own brand of magic. All magic came with a price, and the price of genie magic, the cost of whatever magic that lamp might have held, was often not worth the wish it granted. And this place, Storybrooke, in a World Without Magic, he knew it was made of pure magic. The Curse used magic to keep it going to keep it stable. The Curse absorbed any extra magic floating around this place, but even then, he knew powerful magic could be activated even for a short time…

He turned away from the lamp, refusing to give anymore attention to this ignorant fear of his. It wasn't the lamp that made Emma Swan come into this place. But, while he was thinking about it, if he was planning on bringing magic into this world, then he might need to do something with that particular object. He wasn't superstitious, just cautious. He knew better than to put his faith and trust in wishing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh...this chapter wasn't much of anything but resolution. 1x09 and 1x10 are a bit of a let down because these episodes aren't really anything for Rumple. If you are a fan of Emma or Snowing, you probably love these episodes, but there's not much for Rumple to do here. He's in this one scene for 1x09 and then no scenes for 1x10, which means that up next we'll be into 1x11 while also recapping 1x10, because as you know, Rumple knows all. So...yeah, don't get me wrong, it's a solid chapter; I'm not disappointed in it, I only wish there was more for Rumple to do at this point (though, of course, he thinks that too).
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your very kind comments on the previous chapter. This chapter might not be a thrilling one, but there are some good things to it. 1x11 does have a bit for Rumple to do, but this is also the last little section we have before getting into 1x12, and then, as I've been promising, things really pick up for Rumple. Once he doesn't have to worry about being caught and sneaky around Regina, once things get out into the open, it gets a lot better! I can't wait! Peace and Happy Reading!


	21. Business As Usual

Helping Emma with the children wasn't the breakthrough he'd hoped for. On the one hand, considering the potential that breakthrough had at being a wish made on a genie lamp, he felt rather fortunate to have dodged that bullet. On the other hand, as someone who wanted the Curse broken more than anything in the world, he almost wanted to try wishing again. Almost…but not entirely.

Because while the children being reunited with their father wasn't much, it had at least been something. It may not have been exactly what he'd expected or hoped for, but it was something. It seemed to have set off a series of events in Storybrooke; things that had never happened before were happening, and while he didn't know what to think of the events themselves, he knew that any kind of change in Storybrooke was a step in the right direction, whether it be a good change, or just downright mysterious.

The good change? David and Mary Margaret were…well…dating legitimized it in a rather unsavory way, but when he considered that they were already married…the best way he could put it was that they were "finding each other" again. That annoying little habit they'd started in the Enchanted Forest seemed to have struck again, and he couldn't have been more pleased by it.

He knew what was happening between them because he'd seen this coming for weeks, hoped for it even! After David had woken and Graham had died, he'd hired one of Dove's cousins to watch David because while he'd heard that David was back with his wife, he'd still had his doubts. He hadn't put anyone on Mary Margaret. He hadn't seen a point in that. Mary Margaret was a far cry from her counterpart Snow White. Here, she was shy and quiet. Half the time Dove reported Emma was with her, and the other half, well…if she wasn't with David, he didn't care what she did. Marc, Dove's cousin, wasn't as good at the following and snooping as Dove was, but fortunately, he could read between the lines of Marc's updates. Mary Margaret and David were seeing each other. It had started last week, just before Christmas, when they'd had some terrible storms come through the area. For whatever reason, Mary Margaret had driven into the woods, and Marc reported that David had gone after her. Because of the storm and the intimacy of the situation, it had been impossible for Marc to really see what had happened, but he reported that they'd both gone into the forest and both come out…together. Better yet, the next morning, Marc had seen the pair kissing in the alley by Granny's. It was wonderful, just wonderful! But the best part of it was that it didn't end there.

After that confrontation, Marc reported they saw each other discreetly whenever they could, not that they were any good at that. Marc had said that when he saw them kiss at Granny's, it was in full view of none other than Regina, the worst person who could observe the pair. He'd held his breath all week for her wrath and revenge to rain down on the couple. But so far…nothing. The Evil Queen had done nothing about it. In fact, far as he could tell, she was going about her day as if there was nothing out of place. Denial? Confusion? Shock? Or was it simply that she didn't have a plan yet? Or worse, that she had a plan, and he couldn't see it. He just had to wait and see. But in the meantime, David and Mary Margaret continued to see each other, continued to grow their bond in this new world, and he couldn't see the downside to that. Even according to his newest spy, he could tell they weren't acting the same as they had been before. They were happier. They were having an affair. And he was just fine with that.

But that wasn't the only thing that was new to Storybrooke…there was a stranger in town. That news hadn't come from Dove or Marc, but rather the entire town was buzzing about it. A strange man on the motorcycle. He'd ridden in on the same night that the twins had reconnected with their father and hadn't left. He was curious. He thought very seriously about sending a spy out to investigate him, but after sending Dove to watch Emma and Marc to watch David, he had a feeling that sending someone else out to spy on the newcomer might raise too many questions. Neither Emma nor Regina trusted him at the moment, and he had no doubt they'd be looking for strange things like that to link to him. So he'd tried to solve the mystery on his own. He attempted to do it discreetly, thinking that it wouldn't be very difficult. After all, the man himself was hardly discreet. But he was quick. He didn't sit still for long. He was staying at Granny's, but he didn't have time to stake out the diner and bed and breakfast all the time. Not that his current plan of attack seemed to be working out any better. His current plan being to wait until he saw the motorcycle stop at Granny's and then walk down there himself to see. But by the time he limped down the street, the stranger would leave. The result was that at the moment, his own investigation had amounted to a single glimpse he'd caught of him, from a distance. Other than dark hair, he couldn't make a face out.

He'd also managed to get a name, August Booth. Usually, a name was all he needed, but in this case…it led nowhere. No background, no history, he couldn't even trace the damn motorcycle. It was as if August Booth had just appeared and started living one day. It was irritating. He wasn't ready to give up yet. But he couldn't spend all his time on this. Christmas was over. Dove reported that Emma spent the holiday with Mary Margaret. From the window, he'd watched as the former decorated the tree while the latter made cookies, and the pair of them had watched movies late into the night to celebrate. But while the holidays still were not truly over, the town was getting back into their usual routines, just as they always did before the New Year. And this year, with Emma here, there was other work to be done lest his secret be revealed too early.

He had a meeting to go to tonight, a meeting he'd really rather not attend, but it was the price of the façade he continued to uphold. Tonight was the night he had to collect the remaining half of his money from Regina for the property she was buying from him. Admittedly, the cost had been $50,000 for that spit of earth, at least twice what the land was worth, but it had all been worth it to piss off Regina. He'd taken half of it about two weeks ago after they'd made the deal, and tonight, she was bringing him the remaining half. But from the beginning, he knew there was something off about it.

He'd wanted to make the exchange and sign the paperwork in his shop, somewhere warm and with plenty of light. But earlier in the day, Regina had called and insisted on doing it on the actual property. He'd put up a fuss, of course, tried to get her to see reason, but she'd insisted it was this or no deal, and retrieving the $25,000 he'd already deposited into the bank would be a bigger hassle than just meeting her in the damn forest.

But, as it usually was with Regina, when he finally got to the place that he was supposed to meet her, he was suddenly glad he'd come and see it for himself. They weren't alone in the woods. Trucks were sitting idle and silent around the area, a couple of floodlights lit the place up brighter than noon, and Regina stood there with one hand on her hip and another clutching a briefcase. She didn't see him coming. She was too busy watching as the workers unloaded what was in the back of the truck; metal, chains, hand grips…and a plastic slide. Suddenly a piece of information that Dove had sent him earlier that day didn't seem as useless as he'd thought it was.

"I heard you destroyed the former playground this afternoon," he stated, sidling up next to her.

Regina smiled as she looked over her work. "That old thing has been in shambles for years; as mayor, it's my job to see that everyone in town is safe, including my son and all his friends. The storm destroying it last week was just icing on the cake. As you should know, I've been working on this for weeks."

"Indeed I do…" It wasn't exactly true. He'd known she wanted the property. He wasn't aware that she'd wanted it for a playground, but so long as she paid for it…what did he care? "I assume that's my money."

"I assume that's the final paperwork," Regina spat back, looking at the folder he carried with him.

"Must we hire someone to meet us halfway, or can we do this cordially?"

Regina snorted as she finally turned to look at him, then she smiled and handed him the case. "I included a little something extra to satisfy that curious mind of yours."

He glared at her as he handed her the folder he'd brought for her to sign, then with careful precision, he opened the case to find the trap that she'd laid for him. Plans for the new playground. But this new playground of hers wasn't just any playground. It was clearly modeled after her own castle, back in the Enchanted Forest. It was a trap, a test, to see if he showed any kind of inkling of recognition. But he was older than her, wiser and always at the ready for something like this. He had to be when he'd been tormenting her with subtle hints and words like "please."

"Interesting design," he commented, closing the case and watching as she signed the paperwork. "Bit gaudy for a child's playground, don't you think."

"I got the idea from one of Henry's fairytale books. I'm the mayor, Mr. Gold, not an engineer. It wasn't made for me."

"Yes, but it was made for you, made at your behest."

"Trust me; if it were my design, it would look much different."

"Still…it's as if the contractor didn't design it with you in mind at all, more like…his wife maybe…" he kept his gaze neutral as he delivered the blow. She'd been hoping that he'd reveal something, but he was hoping his words provided her with more suspicion. He wouldn't admit anything, but he did love to leave hints.

"Why would you say that?" she questioned.

"Just an observation. I assume if it's not what you want, it's what someone wants."

"Yes…children! So why would you say that, specifically?"

He smiled as he looked around at the equipment being unloaded. "As I said, Madam Mayor…observation…can we get back to the business at hand…please." Regina sneered but was quiet. "I see you didn't waste any time waiting for the permission to have the land before you got started. But, if you want to build a new playground, then build a new playground. Why do you need to do it out here in the middle of the woods? What's the reason for all the cloak and dagger?"

"I want this to be a surprise for Henry."

"Feeling a bit forgotten, are we, Regina?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means Henry has been spending a lot of time with his mother-"

"Biological mother," she snapped. "Sheriff or not, she is not Henry's mother. I raised him. He is my son."

"I've seen the adoption papers to prove it," he agreed, knowing that a signature didn't mean anything to a boy Henry's age. He needed love and attention, and Emma was where he got it. "So, it's meant to be a surprise for Henry, so…why not build it at the former site? Why not wait until you had the property to call in the dozers."

"Because I want it installed tomorrow, of course. Tomorrow during the council meeting, actually."

"Tomorrow…impressive…you don't waste time, it seems, Madam Mayor."

"I see no reason to waste time, Mr. Gold. Especially now that the storm has destroyed the former playground. The children need somewhere safe to play. And I'm going to give it to them."

"Well then…it all seems to be arranged. But tell me, Regina, do you really think $50,000 worth of land will buy the boy's love? Make him run into your arms and scorn the Sheriff who gave birth to him?"

She whipped her head around to him so fast he half expected her neck to crack. "That's not the reason I'm doing this," she sneered.

"No, of course not," he answered sarcastically. "But…one can always wish." She ignored that comment, just continued to glare at him. He felt a swell of happiness and pride burst inside of him. She'd thought she'd get the better of him, but he'd won this match and gotten the better of her. I loved to win. "If you don't mind, it's been a long day and an awfully long drive for…well…talk of plans for domination. I'll take my leave now."

"Have a nice night, _Mr. Gold_."

He smiled at the way she'd accented his name, as if hoping that it would be a last-ditch effort to get a hint out of him. But he wasn't that ignorant. "Same to you, _Madam Mayor_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was no room for Rumple in 1x10. And because it takes place very privately with David and Mary Margaret, well...I couldn't very well have Marc peering in the window at them. Same with August coming to town. The road is clearly empty save for some cars parked on the street, so I had to have his spies work around that and start making educated guesses about the situation. Instead of dedicating an entire chapter to 1x10, I found it fit fairly well here, as an intro to the 1x11 chapters.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you, RolfB, for your comments. I'm interested to hear what you'll think of this chapter. This episode has all kinds of things that aren't necessarily "wrong" but annoy me none the less. It always sort of bothers me that Regina doesn't even get approval from the City Council before starting the actual work on the playground (we know this as it's done after the council meeting, and no playground goes up that fast). Still, I did enjoy writing the conversation between Rumple and Regina. I really enjoyed letting Regina try and trap him, and having Rumple turn around and play that game far better than she does; not only leaving her with more questions but also leaving her with an old wound opened up at the same time was sort of fun! I love this rivalry, and I hope you do too. Peace and Happy Reading!


	22. Limited Availability

His conversation with Regina signaled the end of his day, and as he trudged back up the hill and away from the machinery and Regina, he was looking forward to going home. It had been a long day; he was going to pour himself something to drink, watch the evening news as he tried to repair an old lamp, then go to bed content with where the long day had taken him. And then tomorrow, he'd wake up and do it all over again, with the small exception of one meeting that Mr. Gold's brain reminded him about. He'd nearly forgotten that tomorrow was the town council meeting. He wasn't required to go, but he always did. He enjoyed sitting there and reminding Regina who really owned the town she played "leader" of. Mr. Gold had enjoyed it long before he had, in truth. It was about the only enjoyable thing to those meetings. They were long and monotonous, but they also contained a wealth of information and gossip that would take Dove weeks to-

Voices up ahead stopped him in his tracks and brought him to a standstill. Voices…out here? In the middle of the night? Regina was behind him, and there were men, construction workers, with her, but these voices were very clearly ahead of him, up and over the ridge in the front. They were voices he recognized but was shocked to find in conjunction with one another. Emma Swan...and Sidney Glass?! The Savior was working with the Magic Mirror, the man who had run against her in the election? Regina's puppet! That didn't bode well.

"Wait!" he heard Sidney call out.

"The bitch tried to have me killed. I'm finding her," Emma stated.

"The bitch"…Regina? Regina had tried to have Emma killed? He wouldn't put it past her, but…how had she found her all the way out here? Slowly he continued to trek forward, still deciding if he wanted to be seen or not. He didn't like the idea of Emma working with Sidney or anyone that close to Regina; it didn't smell right.

"Let's be cautious. We need to think clearly," Sidney stressed.

"To hell with caution. I'm going to find out what she's doing and why she's out here."

So they were looking for Regina. And had somehow tracked her all the way out here but didn't know why. Together? What the hell was going on?

"She was meeting me," he called as he made his way over the hill and finally saw the Sheriff and former mirror talking together. Emma's eyes widened when she saw him, not that he could blame her, he hadn't exactly been expecting to run into her or Sidney either, but here they were.

"What are you doing out here with her?" Emma asked.

"Just a little business transaction," he smiled, playing his role as best he could without telling the girl to get away from Glass.

"What's in the briefcase?" Sidney asked with genuine curiosity…and suspicion.

"Everything comes at a price. Land is no different."

"That's why you're meeting her out here? Regina bought your land?" Emma questioned.

"The very ground you're standing on."

"What does she want it for?" she asked.

He smiled. To tell or not to tell…it was a difficult decision considering he hadn't a clue what was going on or why the pair of them were working together. He wanted Emma to be mad at Regina, he wanted her to fight her, but there was really nothing to fight with a playground. And with Glass here…there was something more at play.

As a lawyer, he was familiar with the phrase "you can't unring a bell." Words couldn't be taken back, especially not without magic; once they were out, they were out. He'd rather hold his cards close to his chest until he knew what all this was about. If he deemed it safe, he could always call Emma later and explain what she was buying but until then…

"You know, in business, I find it's best not to ask too many questions. Hurts the bottom line. The question is, Emma, why are you standing out here in the middle of the night with Mr. Glass?"

The man who had been in Sidney's pocket, who had run against Emma for Sheriff just because Regina told him too…he didn't buy this was any kind of accident. What amazed him was that he could see it and Emma couldn't. She was the perceptive sort, maybe not with the same precision he had, but he knew that she was capable of telling when something was fishy. What was going on here? Did she see it and was just pretending not to? Or was she so blinded by hatred for however she was convinced Regina had tried to kill her she couldn't see it?

"You don't know what Regina did to me. You don't know what she did to her son. We can't just sit idly by."

He grinned, but his stomach felt twisted up into knots. Regina's right hand encouraging her enemy, playing her on an emotional level. Oh, no, he didn't like this one bit. It smelled very foul indeed. It was the familiar stench of Regina. Well, that answered one of his questions. Regina was obviously working on some plan where Emma was concerned; he just didn't know what it was. And that was very distressing.

"Of course you can," he recommended glancing at his Savior.

Mary Margaret and Henry were good for her, but Sidney Glass…that was a bad relationship, to be sure. But he couldn't say anything, he wouldn't, not to Emma, not when Glass was right there. There was no way that it would end well, even if he pulled her to the side. Anything he said or did in front of Emma could be construed to Regina in a very bad way, a way that would reveal his secret long before he was ready for it to be revealed. He needed more information. He needed to play this very carefully.

"Be careful," he warned, stepping between them and purposefully looking away from Emma. "Emotional entanglements can lead us down very dangerous paths."

He hoped she was smart enough to get the hint. And as for himself, he was smart enough to have information at the tip of his fingers when it came to the Savior. Once back at the car, he put the money in the trunk then cast his gaze out to the long road back. He carefully reviewed every tree, every branch, every blade of grass, until finally what he was looking for revealed itself for him. Headlights flashed off the side of the road, a small signal to let him know that he was seen and knew he was there. Clever bird, he wouldn't have seen him if he hadn't given himself away.

He weighed his options, staring at the place the headlights had been, but then finally got into his own car and drove away. It had been tempting to just walk right up to him, to get into the car and speak with him, but the last thing he needed was for Emma to return and still see his car there. So as he passed the place, Dove's car was hidden, took out his cell phone, and called.

"What's happening, Mr. Dove?"

"At this point, Sir, your guess is as good as mine. They've been at it all day, but…I don't know, doesn't something about this smell fishy to you? Cause it smells fishy to me."

"None of those statements are particularly comforting considering what I pay you."

"Emma Swan has been hanging around Sidney Glass all day. They were at the diner together, the station, they even confronted Regina at one point. I followed them out here not long ago, but I can't be in the room with them. I can't listen to their private conversations. Until you invest in some bugs, that's about the best I can do for you. I've got no idea why they're here or who they're looking for. I'm a man, not a fly on the wall."

"Or a bird in a bush…"

"Sir?"

"Nothing," he dismissed as he continued his drive. They'd confronted Regina, Emma believed Regina had tried to kill her, and now she was trying to find her. With Sidney Glass. The pair of them working together, Regina trying to get a rise out of him all of a sudden…no, he didn't like this one bit.

"Listen, I've contacted some of my friends, made a few inquires to see if they knew anything about it. So far, I've come up with nothing, but I haven't heard back from some of them, so…maybe come morning we'll know something."

He sighed. "Something"...that would be "something," at least. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he tried to remember that he couldn't be angry with Dove, not in this situation. He was right. He didn't have any sort of "bugs" here, and without magic, the bird had to stick to watching at a distance. He couldn't just go sit in the police station and say, "don't mind me, go about your business." His spy was helpless but to sit back and watch everything unfurl and then make his own conclusions based on nothing but gossip.

"Stick close until you can figure out what they're after, Mr. Dove," he ordered. "The second you know anything new, kindly inform me at once."

"You got it, chief," he affirmed before hanging up the phone. He tried to remember he couldn't be angry at Dove, but all the same, he was angry. He was limited. And limited certainly didn't mean powerless, but also wasn't powerful. He wanted information. He wanted his magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried really hard at one point to attach this chapter to the last chapter, but the more and more I worked with it, it just wouldn't happen. It wanted to be its own chapter, and so here it is, all on its own. Personally, my favorite part of this is Dove. I really loved that relationship a lot more than I thought I would and this chapter in particular just really shows how resourceful he is and how far he's willing to go for his job. He makes it very clear here that he is doing everything he can to get the information that Rumple needs.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your continued comments! Those are oh so encouraging to me as I continue on this long journey with Rumple. I know this is not really a stellar chapter for Rumple, but it is sort of interesting to see him panic as Regina obviously comes up with a plan that he doesn't know about or understand. And for me, it was essential to get him to that moment of frustration and really wanting his magic back at the end. It seemed reasonable where he was. Up next, we get the conclusion to the 1x11 episode. Let's get to it! Peace and Happy Reading!


	23. On the Outside

As of this morning, there were still no answers to the dozens of questions that he had for the strange sight he'd encountered last night. But he had even fewer answers to the questions that had arisen after he'd arrived home, and Dove had sent him a message that stated Emma and Sidney had broken into the Mayor's office and left together shortly after Regina arrived. He didn't know why they'd done it, he didn't know why they were working together, he didn't know what Regina was up to, but he felt certain it was more than a secret playground that looked an awful lot like a castle Regina had once inhabited. But the scariest thing of all, he had no idea why Emma and Sidney were present at the Town Council Meeting.

There they were. Before he even arrived, it appeared they'd gotten in and taken some seats. They had a file folder or binder of some sort with them, and though they did occasionally turn to whisper to one another, they were mostly quiet. Still, for him, the most disturbing detail was the look in their eyes. They had a sort of fire in their gaze, a determination that he didn't like because he hadn't a clue what it meant. This was driving him mad. For centuries nothing had ever happened in this town or the Enchanted Forest that he didn't know about. He didn't like not being on the inside. He didn't like not having any control. He didn't like being less powerful than Regina Mills.

At precisely one, the moment the clock was done chiming, Regina, who sat at the table in front of the room, banged her gavel. "This session of the Storybrooke City Council will come to order," she stated, just like she did every time the council met. She seemed unphased by Miss Swan's presence. That was a sure sign she expected it. Now how would she have known she'd be here, he pondered, glancing over at Sidney. "We will begin by reading the minutes from our last meeting."

"Uh, excuse me, um, Madam Mayor!"

And just like that, everyone was staring at Sidney. The quiet and meek reporter, Regina's puppet, rose to his feet just as he raised his voice. The folder he'd seen earlier was in his hand.

He stayed seated and tried to plaster the right expression of cool uncertainty on his face but what he felt inside was annoyance. These meetings were dull at best and hell at worst, but add Sidney and Emma into the equation, and suddenly he felt anger begin to boil. What the hell was going on? Sidney had reported on these meetings for years, he knew how they went as well as the appropriate time to talk. Now wasn't it. Which meant he was going for dramatics. Why? To rile up Emma? Now, why would he want to do that?

He glanced suspiciously at Regina as Sidney went on.

"I have something I'd like to bring to the council's attention.?"

"This is not an open forum, Sidney. And no one on this council's interested in hearing the boozy complaints of a disgraced reporter. Now sit down."

"He's not the only one who has something to say!"

Now Emma was out of her seat, grabbing ahold of the files that Sidney had been holding a second ago. If he'd been trying to rile her up, he'd succeeded. The question of "why" remained. Could this get any worse?

"Miss Swan, this meeting is to discuss issues facing Storybrooke."

"Like the Mayor stealing thousands of dollars from the city to build herself a second home?"

There were gasps from the audience as everyone turned to their neighbor for gossip. The gentleman next to him attempted to do the same but stopped when he realized who he was sitting beside. It was a good thing too, the only thing keeping his temper under control right now was the grip he had on his cane. Regina stealing money for a secret home…shit. He had a feeling he was beginning to connect the dots, and for once, he hoped he was wrong. Because if he was right, Emma was about to find herself in a lot of trouble not only with Regina but with the entire town.

Regina banged her gavel once more, silencing the crowd poorly but enough to raise her voice. "Miss Swan, you will sit down immediately or so help me-"

"What? You'll punish me? You'll bully me like everyone else in this town? No. Not today…" Emma turned and looked out over the small crowd before her as she held up a piece of paper. It was difficult to see details from a distance, but he recognized enough of what he saw to identify what it was. The playground she'd shown him the night before. Shit. "In my hand, I am holding documents proving that this woman, your mayor, stole funds from the city to build herself a lavish home in the woods. And this disgraced reporter, you want to know why he was really fired? Because he stood up to her. Because he questioned her. We all know what happens to people who question the Mayor." Emma turned again, looked back in Regina's direction.

Regina was glaring, but she wasn't threatened. No, he knew what it looked like when Regina felt threatened, and that face wasn't it. In fact, she was a little too calm considering what was happening. He had theories galore at the moment, but none that solved this problem or could help Emma.

"You claim that you act in the best interest of all of us, but that isn't the truth, is it? The truth is, you are a thug that doesn't care about anyone or anything but yourself. That is who you really are. And it is time for the people of Storybrooke to know that."

There was a pause, a brief period of silence in which every single eye in the room was fixed on Regina Mills. Those were all very serious accusations to make against the Mayor, and she would have found herself in a lot of trouble… _if_ they were true. But he knew, and Regina knew…they weren't true at all. But still, upset as she looked, he could see through its façade. She'd wanted this. She'd planned for this and was prepared for it. But how? He glanced across the way to Sidney…

Regina's puppet indeed. She'd played him, and in turn, he'd played Emma. They'd set her up for failure. They'd set her up for this very moment…so she could publicly crash and burn. Regina was going to win this particular battle. Fuck.

"You are right, Miss Swan," Regina commented, calling his attention forward. "I am building a house…a playhouse."

Regina rose from her seat and pulled a small remote from her pocket, the remote to the projector. With one click, the playground that he'd shown her appeared on the screen in front of them all, and this time the gasps of disgraced were replaced with sounds of awe and wonder. Regina…smelling like roses while the Savior stunk like last week's trash. How convenient.

"The accusations are true. I did take city funds. I wanted to build a playground so my son, Henry, and all the children of Storybrooke, could have a special place to play. Safely. As for the sketch in your hands, it was inspired by a drawing I found in one of my son's books. So…there you have it, Miss Swan. You've exposed me for who I really am. I hope you're satisfied." Looking utterly baffled and confused, Emma looked back at Sidney, who was making a good show looking upset. Emma took her seat as Regina did, and the pair lowered their stunned gazes, whispered one more thing to one another, and then remained quiet. After a satisfactory amount of time for awkward, punishing silence, Regina banged her gavel once more.

"Now…shall we continue without the theatrics…the minutes…" She continued with the meeting as though nothing had happened, and somehow he managed to as well. But it was a struggle.

Theatrics…theatrics, indeed. Theatrics that had no doubt been planned by Regina herself. No wonder Dove hadn't found anything. There was nothing to find! Regina had been secretly working with Sidney, and she knew enough not to include anyone else in her scheme. The only way he'd have found out was if Regina or Sidney had given the plan to someone else, and Regina was too smart for that while Sidney…Sidney was naught but her faithful puppy dog. A plaything in a way that Graham wasn't. The problem was that he knew Sidney would have loved to take Graham's place in Regina's heart and her bed. No doubt that was how she used him, just as she'd used him to kill her first husband. In manipulating those around her, treating them like chess pieces on a board, his student had taken a page out of his own fucking book. Damn him for not seeing it sooner!

Emma and Sidney had the good sense to wait for the end of the meeting to leave. They were humiliated enough they didn't need to walk out angry and make it worse. But the second the meeting was adjourned…they took off like bats out of hell. He'd expected that. It was the reason he'd dismissed himself early to use the restroom and waited outside…all to see this view: Emma and Sidney practically running away from the scene of the crime. Not that he could blame them. Once upon a time, he'd have wanted to do the same thing. And this situation in particular…Emma had tried to take down Regina, but she'd gone about it the wrong way. He knew that the consequences would be bad he just had no idea how bad they would be or how long they would last, or the effect it would ultimately have on the Curse being broken.

But suddenly, as he stood there waiting for an opportune time to inform her of her mistrust in Sidney Glass, Emma stopped walking and turned. She looked back at Regina, and he had the distinct feeling that she was about to turn and go talk to her, but he wasn't sure if that would be a good idea or a bad idea given her mental standing. He needed her to beat Regina, but not in this way. She'd just failed miserably, and he had a suspicion of why, but no actual proof. He needed to take his power back.

"Look at her," he stated, sidling up to the pair of them. "Queen of the castle. You know, what you did in there was commendable, Miss Swan. But if you really want to bring her down, you're going to need a strong ally."

"Like yourself?" she practically spat out at him. "Thanks, but I'm still not interested."

He smiled. She had no idea just how long he'd been planning all this, the things he'd seen in his head, the things he'd done to put himself in the perfect spot to be exactly what she didn't want but needed so desperately. The Seer was never wrong. One day she'd need him, one day she'd take him up on his offer, and when that day came, he needed to be prepared.

Across the way, he saw Regina glance at the three of them, say good-bye to the man she was talking to, and set her sights on Emma. He knew that gaze. He felt a lecture coming on. He'd be damned if he was going to sit through it from a former student.

"Oh…one can wish," he grinned before turning away and leaving Miss Swan and her new best friend to stare down their enemy. Or was she really "their" enemy.

Back in his car, he watched them chat. He idled nearly as long as his own thoughts did. He wanted so badly to put someone on Regina, to watch her just as he was watching David and Emma, on the off chance she kept trying this, but he knew he couldn't do it. Regina was too smart and might catch on. If she caught on, then he was close to his secret being revealed, and he wasn't ready to play that particular card just yet. However, he was smart enough to know that he didn't need to have Regina followed to keep an eye on her, just a new friend Emma seemed to have made. He didn't have proof, but he'd bet his last good ankle that the one who had arranged all of this was none other than that magic mirror of hers…still a genie at heart he was, determined to make all her wishes come true.

It was a good thing Regina had just made him a rich man. He was going to need another of Dove's cousins to follow Sidney around until he could confirm his suspicions. For his own sake, he couldn't wait for the day that Emma accepted she needed him as her ally and he could get his magic back. Magic was power, and power was information. Until he had his magic back, money was the best substitute and information…it didn't come cheap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, the 1x11 conclusion was awkward to me. It's one of those scenes that just doesn't translate well from screen to page. On-screen it's really dramatic in an awesome way, but once you take it off the TV and bring it into a more realistic setting, it's just not the same. Besides that, this was one that I think I wanted to initially make two or maybe even three chapters but found that there wasn't enough material to do it. So, one great big awkward chapter it becomes. But hey, the good news is that this chapter completes the 1x01-1x11 section, and that means that up next we are moving onto 1x12, and well...do I really need to say what that means again?
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter. I hope you've enjoyed this first half of the season from Rumple's perspective. It's on to the second half from here, and I hope that you are just as excited for it as I am! Peace and Happy Reading!


	24. Past Actions Have Present Consequences

It was a new year, which meant that the last of the holidays were upon them. Storybrooke rang in 2012 one week after the debacle at the Town Council Meeting, and for the first time in memory, he'd stayed in his shop for the night and watched the celebration along Main Street, in front of the now working clocktower. He watched, Dove watched, but there wasn't much to see. Emma had acted as Sheriff that night. According to Dove, other than a few drunken individuals she gave a ride home, and one that she let spend the night in the cell for making a pass at her, it was a peaceful, if not quiet, evening. But he wasn't overly pleased about any of it.

It had now been seven weeks, seven long grueling weeks, since that Town Council Meeting. And in that time, nothing of consequence had happened. Probably because there hadn't been the opportunity for it. He'd had a suspicion that the consequences of that day would be big, and it turned out that he was right.

That very night, he called Dove and had him send one of his cousins to him. He'd set the man to following Sidney Glass. He'd expected he'd need him for several days to confirm his suspicions, but as it turned out, only hours after having drinks with Emma at Granny's, he'd spotted Sidney going into Regina's office. He'd reported that Sidney and Regina left the office together, both smiling, both looking happy. Given what had just happened, it might have seemed impossible, but a picture was worth a thousand words, and Dove's cousin had taken plenty of the exit to convince him and, better yet, to convince Emma. No, it wasn't exactly the solid proof he would have liked, but it was close enough. The next day he'd sent those pictures to Emma along with a letter, personally telling her to choose her allies with a bit more care. As far as he was concerned, she didn't need to have him as her ally in this fight; even though he knew she would one day, she just needed to be smarter about how she chose those she had. He advised her in the coming weeks to stick to her job and keep her head low…but he hadn't thought she'd follow the advice half as well as she did.

Dove continued to follow her. He reported that she stuck to her schedule for the last seven weeks but with one major difference: Henry was no longer a part of it. Once, the pair could be seen roaming the town, thick as thieves, exploring together and bonding every single day. Now, the closest they ever got, Dove reported, was when she went to the park to watch him play, and she and Henry communicated via the walkie talkie's he'd given her. Dove had it on good authority, though he didn't know who's, that after what happened at the council meeting, Regina had told Emma to stay away. Supposedly the Mayor had something on her, and it seemed to be working well enough to shock him every time he looked at the calendar. Seven weeks. Seven weeks without her son! Seven weeks without any progress made to break the Curse. Seven weeks Storybrooke had been stuck in the same old storylines, and he felt like it was starting to show. He'd been waiting around all these weeks for something, anything to happen that might put them back on track! But other than a shouting contest between Emma and Regina in front of Granny's three weeks ago, there had been nothing unusual in the Savior's life. Speeding tickets, occasional drunks, and domestic disputes…there had been dozens apparently, but nothing pertinent to breaking the Curse.

He needed to figure out a way to end this slump, get Henry and Emma back together, and continue to get the Curse to weaken! As it was, right now, all he could do to continue fighting it was to break up the ordinary, disrupt the storyline, stop the monotony. The fairies were one place to start. The Convent…in this world it contained a den of nuns that Mr. Gold despised after too many years of Catholic School. In their world, it was the den for fairies, creatures that he'd hated for nearly all his life after they lied to him about his mother and left him to his father. Fortunately, in the last seven weeks, their rent payments were barely scraping by. He suspected that very soon when they couldn't get enough tithes in to continue paying their rent, he'd have the great honor and joy of legally kicking them off his property. That was something to look forward to, at least. It was something new that would change something in Storybrooke; for the better, in his opinion. However, a few days ago, when he'd looked at the date on his calendar, he'd gotten a small thrill when he realized that it was not the only thing that would be changing for the better.

A loan Moe French had taken out during the Curse for his flower shop had been due in January. He hadn't paid it. Rumpelstiltskin, given the current situation and what was happening, probably would have been happy to let it go, but Mr. Gold never let anything go. And frankly, Moe French, the former King Maurice, had always given him a bad taste in his mouth ever since the day he'd met him. When Regina had told him what he'd done to his daughter, to Belle, the only woman he'd ever known who had made him feel something since Baelfire had left, he'd longed to give him a taste of the torture he'd given to her, his one True Love in this life. And since Emma wasn't seeing Henry any way…

He called Dove two days before Valentine's day and told him he had need of one of his cousins in the morning, someone with a bit of muscle. Dove knew just the person. He'd quickly explained with near glee that someone has defaulted on a loan and he was going to need help collecting the collateral. His cousin agreed, and that was how he found himself the next morning on the street with a man named Moses behind him.

The advantage to being stuck in a time loop for twenty-eight years with no one being aware of it was that he knew to expect people before even they did. Every year on the day before Valentine's Day, Moe met a client to deliver roses. It was one of many on his route, and he was on time. He'd expected the exchange to go easily enough but…roses…Belle's favorite.

He had a flash of a memory, something that triggered in his mind like one of the Seer's visions, but this was of the past, something he'd already lived.

_"Just an old woman selling flowers…here!"_

_Belle blushed as he'd given it to her. She'd smiled and smelled it. She cherished it._

The realization that in this world right now, he was the only one who knew her name, the only one that knew her favorite flower slammed into him without mercy, crippling him in a way that a cane couldn't fix. It made his chest ache and his lungs burn. He was lucky he was able to hold the sting of water in his eyes back.

Valentine's Day was tomorrow. He'd planned it this way because he figured taking the truck now would hurt Moe the most but now that he was here, taking a truck from the father of the man that had killed the woman he loved seemed a poor substitute.

But it was a start, he reminded himself. Or tried to.

As Moe unloaded flowers, he motioned to Dove's cousin to follow, a quick snap at him to keep his mouth shut and do as he said was all he needed to understand his role. The van…it was his collateral. Shame really.

"Well, this is just perfect," he taunted when he turned to finish up his order. "I've been looking for you, Mr. French."

The man sighed and cast his eyes down with disappointment. The poor man had probably been waiting for this to happen for weeks. In truth, knowing that brought a bit of joy to him.

"I'll have your money next week," he informed him. Bargaining. Cute. But ineffective.

"The terms of the loan were fairly specific. Take the van," he muttered to Moses over his shoulder. Obediently Moses moved to the driver's side and got into the van. He started the truck and probably would have driven away only to find his path blocked by Mr. French. Now the man had balls? He'd complain about him taking a truck, but his "beloved daughter" earned not a single protest? Oh, he thought this would feel good…he was sorely mistaken. His chest felt like there was a gaping hole in it, and suddenly this all felt like a petty waste.

"Wait! No!" he cried as Moses revved the engine. "Tomorrow's Valentine's Day. It's the biggest day of…I've got a grand in roses in the back! Stop! You've got to let me sell them."

He smiled, an unimpressed grin worthy of Mr. Gold. Mercy wasn't part of the deal. And considering he knew that he'd had no mercy when it came to his own daughter, he wasn't willing to give it. Actions had consequences. Mr. French had no idea what he'd done at the moment to cause such disdain for him and joy in depriving him of something he wanted. But one day, he would know. One day…

"I'm going to leave you two to continue this conversation," he stated as he turned his back on Mr. French and his van.

"Oh, this is no way to do business, Gold. You are the lowest! People aren't going to put up with this!"

But he didn't particularly care what he was shouting at him, not that he ever did, because as he crossed the street for the sidewalk, he discovered a familiar face standing there, one he wasn't particularly inclined to see at the moment.

Regina. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was waiting for him.

"Mr. Gold…that was quite a show back there."

He shrugged. "Well, Mr. French is just having a bad day, happens to the best of us."

"I've been meaning to talk to you about something-"

"Yeah, and the moment you have something I want to discuss, we'll have that little chat," he dismissed.

He wasn't in the mood for Regina. He knew what she wanted to discuss, and he had no interest in discussing it at the moment. In two weeks, Emma would have been the Sheriff for three months. After he'd tricked her so mercilessly with the town charter to get Emma elected, he did not doubt that she herself had read every last word of it about their new Sheriff's position. At the three month mark, Emma was to be evaluated. At that time, she couldn't be fired, but she could be put on probation if Regina didn't feel she was doing an adequate job, and given the events of the town hall seven fucking weeks ago…yeah, he'd say he knew what she wanted to talk about.

She wanted to make sure he didn't have any tricks up his sleeve again. But as his father had taught him, the first trick to pulling off an illusion was never to let someone see up your sleeve. Not that it mattered at the moment. He had no tricks, not that he wanted her to know that. Still, he wasn't in the mood for this conversation, for games, not now. Now, he wanted to go back to his shop, lock himself inside, and pretend like tomorrow didn't bother him, like he didn't feel Belle's ghost was haunting him. But as he stepped to move around her, he found his path blocked.

"No, we're going to do this now. It'll only take a moment," Regina persisted.

The next day aside, he wasn't in the mood for her at all. He'd thought this little trick with Moe would put him in a good mood for the rest of the day, but all at once, all he could smell in the air was roses. And he was keenly aware of the fact that just down the block, there was a pair of lovers snogging without any consideration of the heartache he felt. The memory of Belle was suddenly and unexpectedly fresh in his head. He was desperate to see some motion on breaking the Curse, but if Emma could sit on her ass for seven damn weeks without doing anything about it, then he could afford to do the same for a couple more days!

"Is there something eating you, dear? Something you need to get out in the open? Cause it's going to have to wait."

Regina opened her mouth to argue, but he'd had enough. One could only say "no" for so long before resorting to something more drastic, something like…

"Please," he snarled, invoking their deal. Immediately Regina was silent, her mouth closed at the invocation of ancient magic, and she stepped away so that he could step around and move down the street to his shop. He had no interest in overplaying that particular card, but this was the first Valentine's Day in this world that he would spend with his memories, memories of Belle. He'd thought he was prepared for that, he'd thought this would help, but all it seemed to do was make it all worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the massive timeline jump, but if you follow the dates that we've been given and the temporal statements, this is just what it is. 1x01-1x11 all happen before New Year, and then when we're back to 1x12, we're obviously into Valentine's Day. If I had organized it any different, then the weeks wouldn't have matched up to the show. Sorry about that.
> 
> Big thank yous to RolfB, Teacupsroses, and Masterreaper90 for your comments on the last chapter. I'm so happy to hear that you enjoyed it, but I'm really very thrilled that you are looking forward to this section so much. I hope it won't disappoint. I hope even this small first chapter won't disappoint. Even with the weird timeline jump, there were a few things that I was able to fit in and work with. Rumple getting a bit sloppy here as he's suddenly overwhelmed by something he'd thought he'd prepared himself for is reminiscent of many widow's first years after their spouses' death. You can prepare and plan all you like, but eventually, it catches up with you. Also, what Regina wants to talk to him about. I changed that for this first part to her wanting to talk about Emma. I know later she obviously wants to have a chat about what memories he has, but for here...I just couldn't see her wanting to ask him about that in the middle of Storybrooke in broad daylight. She's not nearly as smart as her mentor, but she's not that dumb either. He wouldn't answer a question like that in that way; she knows that. So yes, for this interaction, I changed the reason, with the thought that perhaps it's this interaction, this use of the word "please" that triggers her. Peace and Happy Reading!


	25. Dead and Gone

Fucking humanity. He was a fool. A damn fool. He'd been so set in his ways, so angry about the damn standstill he was living in that he hadn't taken time to really take stock of the situation at hand. From the time he'd left his shop to handle it to the moment he arrived again, the incident with Moe French had taken no more than ten minutes. But suddenly, it felt as though hours had passed. Ten minutes…

Ten minutes ago, he'd been happy. Ten minutes ago, he'd left thinking he was going to finally get some revenge on the man who was responsible for the death of the woman he loved. Ten minutes ago, he thought it was justice or karma or whatever people in this world believed, but now, ten minutes later…

He was a fool.

Fucking Valentine's Day…he'd known it was coming; he'd seen it on his calendar and had smiled, thinking nothing more of it than an opportunity to take something precious from Moe French as he'd taken something precious from him. He'd known it was coming, but he felt as though he hadn't really perceived the holiday until he'd seen those roses.

The memory of giving her the rose was the clearest he'd thought of her in years. Her laughter at their banter echoed in his ears like a music box melody he couldn't get out of his head, and all he found himself wanting to do was sit down on the ground and cry. In truth, he'd never really been bothered by Valentine's Day as Mr. Gold. But then again, Mr. Gold had never had anyone that he loved, at least not in the same way, not as strong, as he'd loved his Belle. Mr. Gold had a few fuzzy memories of college flings but nothing serious enough to make his heartache. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why he was always so cruel. Rumpelstiltskin, on the other hand…he had more than a few hazy, false memories to remember of love. Short-lived as it had been, he'd always cherished every last one of them. He'd wished a million times he could go back and correct his mistakes, imagined a thousand different ways he could have handled the situation when he'd realized just how deep the love they'd had ran within him. But he'd always come to the same conclusion: no matter what he wished he'd done, nothing could change the past. Belle was dead.

It had hurt in the Enchanted Forest at various times, but never was there an entire day in the Enchanted Forest that encouraged the celebration of love and couplings like Valentine's Day did here. If today hurt, he could only imagine what it was going to be like tomorrow; watching people walk down the street, arm in arm, hand in hand, young lovers throwing one another up against the sides of building to kiss passionately, the smiles on their faces as a man would give a woman a ring or even just a rose…just like he had done decades ago and his heart…

It was a ridiculous holiday, he told himself as he tried to pull himself together. It was a holiday born of blood and greeting cards, chocolate companies, and sappy movies. But it made him feel like Belle was haunting him, hanging over his shoulder, unable to get to him. Honestly, what he'd done to her father probably hadn't helped that particular feeling. Yes, he'd done it in revenge, but he also knew that revenge wasn't Belle's style. She was forgiving, perhaps too forgiving. If she'd lived through the ordeal Maurice had put her through, she would have forgiven him. He despised that about her while loving her for it all the same. She wouldn't have wanted what had happened this morning. She'd have advised him against it. But what they might have done instead…he'd never know.

He made it until a few hours after lunch before deciding to give up. It seemed that no matter what he did or what he thought about, Belle invaded. Sometimes he spent minutes thinking about her, sometimes he sat still and didn't move for hours before he realized how much time he'd lost thinking about her, trying to imagine what life would have been like if she were here now-if she were alive. Hiding from Regina or not, no matter where she was he knew he would have found her. He'd have taken care of her, protected her from her father. One by one, all those fantasies he'd imagined in the Enchanted Forest, the ones he'd feared were visions and would now give anything to be real, came back to him; Belle as an old woman, Belle with a baby in her arms, Belle naked in bed beside him, Belle wearing white…

But there was no use dreaming up fantasies that would never come true, just as there was really no reason to stay and work when he wasn't getting anything done, and all he wanted to do was go home and glance at Belle's chipped cup. So he left early. Without explanation or reason, he turned the sign in his shop window to "closed" gathered up his belongings and went back home. Damn whatever consequences there would be if Regina was spying and saw him holding Belle's cup. He'd come up with something to explain it later. So long as he didn't give in to his temptation to spin these thoughts away, all would be…well?

Perhaps it was a good thing he'd come home; as he walked up the steps to his front door and moved to turn the key in the lock, he realized it wasn't necessary. The door was ajar. He stared at it for a moment, then pushed it open and entered the house. Not once, ever, in the history of being in Storybrooke, had he ever forgotten to lock the door to his house. He supposed there was a first for everything but…as he stood there listening, trying to hear if anyone was inside, he glanced around the foyer. It wasn't long before he spotted something out of place. Not out of place…missing.

His heart raced as he hobbled inside to the table just by the door. It was the place he'd been keeping Belle's cup. Now the cup was gone.

Gone.

Just like she was gone and dead and…

As anger swelled up inside of him, he drew his gun and slowly moved farther into the house. Oh, he hoped the culprit was still here. If he did, he had more than a reasonable excuse to shoot him, and he was primed for a little bit of bad behavior that came with a lot of violence!

He checked the foyer and the unused family room. Both were clear. He could see through to the dining room that looked empty as well and was just about to head into the-

The floor behind him creaked and he spun on instinct, ignoring the shooting pain in his ankle as he did so and pointed his gun only to come face to face with none other than Emma Swan, her own gun pointed at him.

"Sheriff Swan…" he breathed angrily. He was disappointed she'd come. With her here, he couldn't very well shoot the bastard that had done this, and that was problematic for him.

"Your neighbor saw your front door open. They called it in," she explained calmly. Though he couldn't help but notice she still had her gun aimed right at him. Not that he'd lowered his own. She was damn lucky that he needed her. Otherwise, he'd have had a perfect excuse to shoot her after she'd been so stupid in the seven weeks. For that matter, she was also lucky he didn't have an itchy trigger finger and could remain calm in these kinds of situations.

"It appears I've been robbed."

"Funny how that keeps happening to you."

He sighed as he finally lowered his gun and relaxed a bit, resigning himself to not killing her until the proper time called for it. If either of them were going to shoot, the time had passed. He wasn't in the mood for any of this either, but it seemed he had no choice.

"Yeah, well, I'm a difficult man to love…"

Because the only person who had ever loved him, truly loved him, was dead and gone. And now so was his last reminder of her.

"I'd put that together on my own, thanks," she answered, looking at something over his shoulder. "Stay here. I'm going to do a sweep."

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

"Call a cop," she snapped sarcastically as she moved cautiously around him anyway. There was no need to search his house, absolutely none. He knew who had done this, who was angry enough to do this. Moe French. Fat as the old bastard was if he was here, he was certain he would have heard him by now. He was gone. And so was Belle's cup. That was the problem…

A tapestry, candlesticks, a silver tray, a couple of vases, remarkably a set of plates; as he wandered around taking note of a few other things that were missing, one thing grew abundantly clear to him. Moe French wasn't the one behind this. Oh, he'd stolen everything; he had no doubt about that. But when his eyes fell once more on the place that Belle's chipped cup had once been, he felt a fire light in his chest at the realization that he'd been directed to do this.

Regina Mills. The Evil Fucking Queen herself.

Why else would someone come into his home and take rare and valuable pieces of property in addition to one broken cup? They wouldn't. Not on their own. Not without being told. And there was one person who would have known that if they wanted revenge on him, that cup was the way to go. There was one person in this town who had the memories to put together that it might mean something to him. Not him as "Mr. Gold," but rather him as "Rumpelstiltskin." That was bad news. Bad, bad news. If she'd told him to take that cup, then that meant that she knew. But that was another problem to take care of.

Regina was at the center of this, but an old darkness in him was taking root as he stared at the empty table, a darkness he hadn't felt since the Enchanted Forest. No one stole from the Dark One, especially not that teacup. For that teacup, he would go to hell and back for. Right now, his priority was getting the cup back, and he knew that Regina wouldn't have it. She wouldn't do something like this, not personally. The mayor breaking and entering…someone would have seen that. And there was always the chance that it was just a coincidence, though he generally didn't believe things like that. The shortest distance between two points was a straight line, so he was confident that if he wanted his cup back if he wanted his suspicions confirmed, he had to go to the person who had stolen it.

Fucking Regina.

Fucking Moe French.

As if murdering his daughter wasn't enough…

"Door down the hall won't open."

He sighed as Emma Swan reappeared in front of him. "It's the basement door, and it's been sealed shut since I bought the house."

"You've never opened it?"

"I'm a busy man...haven't gotten around to it."

"Alright...have you noticed anything missing?"

Only one thing worth mentioning, but if Regina was behind this, he wasn't willing to list it and play into her hands. Instead, he rattled off a general "china" along with the mental list he'd already constructed before the walkie-talkie at her hip blared to life. Emma muttered something about calling in an "all clear" as she reached for it and turned her back on him. She was the only officer in town, so he had no idea who she was talking to. Graham's ghost?!

He didn't have time for this. He didn't have time to sit on his ass and watch Emma Swan follow procedure. He had to get his hands on Moe French.

"Sheriff Swan, you can go now," he excused. "I know exactly what was taken and who did it. I've got it from here."

"No, you don't," Emma groaned, rolling her eyes at him. "This was a robbery, a public menace. And if you don't tell me what you know, I'll have to arrest you for obstruction of justice. I have a feeling you don't want to be behind bars."

He sighed. "Indeed not…"

Arrested for obstruction…he could have himself out of jail in a couple of hours easily enough. Any judge would laugh the case out of court. But Emma…she'd be a difficult one to shake, and right now, all he wanted to do was what he should have done decades ago. Kill Moe French, then get Belle's cup back. He had a lot of rage racing through his veins, perhaps it was just that, but at the moment, he was having trouble thinking clearly. He wanted his Belle. If he couldn't have her, then he'd settle for her cup, and if he couldn't get that…he'd kill himself a florist and avenge his long-lost love. But none of that, none of it, would be possible if he was sitting in jail waiting for a judge to hear his case. It also wouldn't happen if he were dealing with Emma Swan.

"Alright, his name's Moe French. He sells flowers. He recently defaulted on a loan," he explained. "A short time ago, we had a little disagreement over collateral."

"Okay. I'll go get him, check him out."

"I'm sure you will, assuming I don't find him…" he chuckled, suddenly angry with himself as well. He'd said that out loud. He hadn't meant to say it out loud. He'd just…he'd slipped. Damn this fucking holiday that had him all twisted up and angry and wanting to throw something at the window! And damn Emma Swan for being so fucking observant that she knew to stop when he'd let his tongue loosen.

"Let's just say, bad things tend to happen to bad people," he explained.

"Is that a threat?"

He shrugged. "Observation."

She glared at him as she fixed her hat once more and then headed for the door.

"Good luck," he muttered, even though all he wanted to say was good riddance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene was interesting to put together as it's actually two different snippets of the scene that we see but obviously needed to be rolled into one. I hope you like the in-between parts, the section that links Emma's arrival together with her departure. I didn't want to overdo it, but I know other things need to be focused on in this chapter, so I hope I didn't underdo it (if that makes sense).
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter! Personally, I like this chapter. I like Emma's snark. I know that their banter is born out of difficult times and not a good place like Belle and Rumple's, but I love it and I hope you will too. I hope you'll find it's in character for her. Peace and Happy Reading!


	26. Job Half Done

He'd pulled Dove off of Emma nearly as soon as the woman left his house. He sent him new instructions with orders to ask as many contacts as possible, as many cousins and siblings as he had to help him find the thief Moe French.

Mr. Gold knew he wasn't supposed to, that this wasn't his job, but Rumpelstiltskin wasn't about to sit back idly on his arse and do nothing while he waited for the Savior to find Moe French; especially not when she couldn't even seem to break the one fucking Curse he'd designed her to break! And besides that, he needed to talk to the man, and he had a feeling that to have the kind of privacy they needed to have when they spoke, he was going to need to find him first. As for leaving Emma unattended for the day, without someone to watch her, well...if Emma was trying to find Moe French as well, then there really was no need for Dove to follow Emma around. If they both did their jobs, then likely they'd be in the same place.

Much to his shock and relief, finding Moe French wasn't difficult. One by one, messages from Dove's family started pouring into him, creating a timeline for him to follow. Someone had seen Regina Mills approach Moe French just after he'd left her on the sidewalk. That was helpful, it at least was evidence for his theory, but it didn't tell him where Moe French currently was. Another person wrote to let him know that they'd seen Moe French return to his store, stock his car full of buckets of flowers, then drive away. From there, he had no sightings of Moe French for hours until Moses himself finally sent him a message. After he'd taken the van, he'd paid Moses to park the van in an impound lot and then stay there to watch it for the day, thinking that Moe French might attempt to do something stupid. It appeared he'd been right. Moe had shown up. He'd made him an offer, tried to get him to return the van. Of course, he'd refused every proposal, but he'd kept him there long enough for Dove to arrive and then follow him back to his own damn flower shop! Moe French was a fool. He'd been a fool then, and he was a fool now. Tomorrow he'd still be a fool, so long as he didn't kill him first.

So, why Emma was calling him to the station when he knew French wasn't there was a mystery to him. Not that it mattered, no matter what Emma wanted to speak to him about, he'd already begun to form a plan about how to deal with Moe French and get Belle's cup back. With any luck, he might even discover if his theory on why he'd taken it was correct.

When he walked into the police station Emma was at her desk in the office, she was talking on the phone with someone, and he observed an empty desk with a sheet over a few suspicious lumps. The second Emma saw him, she hung up her phone and moved toward that desk. "Got something for ya," Emma smiled.

She whipped the sheet off to reveal what appeared at first glance to be his missing items. For half a second, he felt the tightness in his chest loosen as he dared to hope. Plates, candlesticks, silver tray, vases…

No chipped cup.

Anger curled around him once more, and he fought hard to contain it by gripping his cane tighter than usual. Truthfully, what he really wanted to be gripping was the throat of former King Maurice. It was nothing. All of this…this junk Emma had retrieved it was as good as worthless! It didn't matter if he could sell it all for a fortune. It had no value to him. All because he didn't see the one item that he wanted most, the one item that was irreplaceable. The one item he would kill to retrieve. It alone, damaged as it was, was priceless. Decades ago, he hadn't been able to protect Belle; he hadn't been able to save her. If he couldn't save her, then he would save that teacup. It was the last thing he had that was hers. He wouldn't risk its safety.

"You're welcome," Emma muttered sarcastically in the absence of his praise. Cocky, she sat down in the chair behind the desk, proud of herself. He couldn't see why when Moe French was not in the cell behind him and obviously at large. "You were right. Your man Moe ripped you off. It was all still at his place."

"And the man himself?"

"Closing in on him."

Obviously not, seeing as how he currently knew where he was, and she was sitting here doing absolutely nothing about it. What he needed, though, wasn't Moe or his location. He needed Belle's cup! He needed to know who'd told the man to take it! If that meant he had to take things into his own hands to do it…so be it.

"So, job well 'half-done,' then."

"In less than a day, I got everything back. Is something wrong?" she snapped with all the malice that came from crushed pride. Had she really been expecting him to reward her when he'd damn near done her job for her?

"You've recovered nothing," he hissed. "There's something missing."

"I'll get it when I find him!" Emma called, but he was already halfway out the door, the perfect plan suddenly fully formed in his head.

"Not if I find him first…"

He wasn't about to let a man who murdered his daughter get away with this. He wasn't about to let any harm come to Belle's teacup! Once out the door, he opened his cell phone and called Moses. The second he answered, he didn't waste time with pleasantries, not while the sun was already starting to go down.

"Leave the van outside of Game of Thorns at eight," he commanded roughly. "Leave the keys on the seat, lock the front doors, but open the back. When you've completed your task…leave. I'll see you're paid within the week so long as you forget this order."

There was a pause on the other end for a couple of heartbeats before Moses finally muttered, "Understood, Sir."

He smiled as he hadn't in years—the smile of a plan coming together beautifully. The smile of justice long denied finally being realized. The smile of revenge. Suddenly he felt just like his old self.

"Excellent."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but it was a short scene in the Sheriff's office, and not a lot to attach it to that made sense. Still, I hope that you'll enjoy it.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments of the last chapter. I'm sorry this one is so short, but hopefully, it gives you a good idea about where Rumple is in his head. I used this incident to push him a little. When the chapters for this episode began, Rumple was frustrated, not just over the Belle stuff but also because it had been so long since the Curse breaking. I folded a little bit of that frustration into this to create sort of a perfect storm for our Rumple. He's far more wound up than he should be. I wonder what effect that might have later on? Peace and Happy Reading!


	27. To-Do List

He was about to do something bad. In fact, he was about to do something so bad that he was certain Belle might have fallen out of love with him if she had any inkling that he was about to do it. But what the fuck did he care about that. Belle was dead. That was the driving force behind his desire to do bad. The person who was responsible for her death was out walking around without a fucking care in the world that he'd killed his daughter. Moe French had taken one of the few things in the world that couldn't be replaced, the only thing in the world that he had from Belle. Her cup was still missing, still unaccounted for even if everything else was. And no one ever stole from the Dark One. No one conspired against him without him knowing it. So yes, he was about to do something very bad. Damn the consequences.

Actually, better yet, bring on the consequences! Because he was pretty sure that if who he thought was behind all this actually was, then there was a discussion they'd need to have in the future, a reminder about who was the teacher and who was the student. And if they were going to have that conversation, he would much rather it be on his terms rather than her own! He'd rather know than wonder, and he'd rather be sure about who Moe French was working for rather than uncertain, which was why he'd crafted his plan, to begin with. A plan that didn't feature his flunkies, but rather just him. Dove couldn't do this, lest he find out something he wasn't ready to know yet. And that left him, a short, disabled lawyer with a cane and a gun, against fat old Moe French. All things considered, he was pretty sure he'd be okay on his own. But there were some things he had to do first.

The first was to talk to Dove. He didn't have the Seer, but he knew enough that he had to think of his future and consider what to do should "the worst" happen. He put money in a particular account that Dove had access to and then instructed him to do whatever he needed to with those funds to ensure his safety and freedom in the next couple of days. To his pleasure, Dove didn't bat an eye. He understood perfectly well that the money was there for bribery if something should go wrong, and better yet, was there as hush money for his cronies if everything went right.

The second thing he needed to do was pick up a few things. He had no reason to go back to the shop or even his home, and he knew enough to know that he shouldn't, even if what he needed most was there. Because if things did go wrong and they could tie certain items to his properties, then that would be a very bad thing for him. So instead, thirty minutes before Moses was supposed to deliver the flower truck outside of Moe French's flower shop, he stopped into Dark Star Pharmacy.

Technically, he owned the pharmacy. Mr. Clark, formerly known as one of Snow White's Dwarves, though which one he couldn't find it in himself to care, only rented the property from him. And fortunately for him, Mr. Clark was not only too cheap to have security cameras, but he was a coward, like most dwarves. He knew that when push came to shove, he'd have Mr. Clark's discretion.

Of course…he couldn't be sure he could count on the discretion of one of the two other people in the pharmacy. David was there. He kept a sharp eye on the former False Prince as he gathered his own things, duct tape and rope, suitable for what he had in mind a little later. Mr. Clark wouldn't say anything if Emma asked questions, but David…David might say something. Or at least his former self might say something. This new version that couldn't tell one memory from another…he didn't know. He still had that look of innocence about him that suggested he might talk to Emma if he thought he knew something. But this was also the same man that was currently having an affair, albeit with the woman he was actually married to instead of the one he'd been engaged to and run away from, with her own blessings…nuance.

But fortunately for him, as he watched David pick one card out, then go to another rack and started perusing for another, he knew what he could do to ensure David's silence. Angry as he was, scared as he was, he couldn't help but snicker. If necessary, those cards could be his tickets to safety. After all, David needed to be more careful. He and Mary Margaret were not nearly as sneaky as they thought.

"Two valentines…" he commented as David fell into line behind him. "Sounds like a complicated life."

"Oh, no. I…I just couldn't decide," David stuttered, but hid it behind a soft chuckle that he was sure Snow White would have fallen head over heels for at one time.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead glanced behind at the two cards he'd chosen. One was formal and romantic, and the other comical but adorable. Couldn't decide his arse…they were each the definition of two women in his life. Which was exactly what he'd point out should something bad happen and David turn into a threat.

"These are both for the same woman?"

"Well, they're both so…us."

"I see," he smiled. He wasn't wrong. One relationship was romantic and deep, the stuff of legends that would stand the test of time. The other was…well…comical, but fun to watch from a distance, he supposed. Not nearly as fun as the irony around it all, however. Prince Charming having an affair while he pined for a woman who had died decades ago, and the Evil Queen was winning a battle against good. He would never have thought he'd live to see a day like this. "Well, you're fortunate you have someone that loves you."

"I really am," David agreed as the woman ahead of him in line finished up, and he walked forward to make his purchases, cash, of course. He needed to hurry this along. He had somewhere to be in ten minutes. And David…well…Marc would be watching, of course, but who knew where these next ten minutes would take him. Who knew where Belle's mind had gone in the last ten minutes of her life…

"Love…it's like a delicate flame, and once it's gone, it's gone forever," he whispered, managing to hold on to his smile even though his chest felt like it was going to burst open. He couldn't breathe. He had that feeling a lot when he thought about her even all these years later. If only things had been different. If only he'd been different.

Behind him, he heard the crinkle of a plastic bag and found one pushed in front of him with a ten-dollar bill, his change. "Best of luck to you," he muttered to David even as he smiled awkwardly at him.

He heard him whisper thanks, but he didn't turn to reciprocate, just made his way to the door and left. It was nearly eight, and with some useful information on David, a suspicion that could be drawn from an interaction for his own devices if necessary, he felt confident in the next step in his checklist.

Secure Moe French.

Dove informed him that he was still waiting in the shop, that he hadn't left, hadn't so much as set a foot outside. The lights in the store were off, the blinds pulled closed, but Dove said every now and then he could see French peek out the window to look down the street. That was good. He planned on using it.

He hid in the ally just beside Game of Thorns. It was cold out, and wet, and as he waited for the clock to strike eight, he didn't see a single person out on the streets. That was good. Very good. For himself, that was; for Moe French, it was rather unfortunate. He stayed quiet while he waited, shivering in the cold, wishing that he still had his magic. Magic would have made this really very easy and a lot more comfortable. But the cool air didn't scare him away. It didn't cool his anger or frustration; if anything, it just spurred him on. He imagined how cold Belle had been in her final days, wondered if she longed for the fireplaces of the Dark Castle. He thought of her every time his teeth chattered, and his body shook. The feeling of cold all around him was all he needed to remember why he was here, doing…this…

Right on time, Moses showed up. He watched as the van pulled up to Game of Thorns, listened as it groaned to a stop and the motor shut off. He heard a few bangs inside the metal giant, then finally, the back doors swung open. Moses jumped out and walked away down the street, unaware he was even there. Which was exactly what he wanted, especially when-

It was less than thirty seconds before he heard the door to Game of Thrones open. Suddenly, out on the sidewalk, Moe French appeared, staring stupidly up at his van as if it was an angel come to Earth instead of just a truck driven over from a storage lot. If only it was his angel…it might spare him. Moe went to the passenger door. He tugged on it but found it appropriately locked. Then he moved, predictably, to the back, where Moses had left the doors open. The second he was at the back, but hidden by the door, he moved behind him. He caught up his cane in his hand, and before even knew what was happening, he walloped him over the head with the handle.

Moe let out a noise, and with the help of a small push, fell into the back of his truck. Quickly, without thinking, he scooped up Moe's legs and shoved them into the back of the van. Then he climbed in after Moe, and after he confirmed the keys were waiting on the driver's side door as instructed, he moved to the back and closed the doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally meant to be two, but there was really not enough content for the second part, where Moe is captured, to make it its own chapter. It either had to go at the end of this chapter or the beginning of the next chapter. Obviously, I opted for the end of this chapter. I figured it sort of fit in well with the idea of his "to-do list".
> 
> Big thank yous going out to RolfB and Futuresunshine02 for commenting on the previous chapter. I do hope that you'll be okay with some of the assumptions I made in this chapter. It always bothered me how Moe got captured when he's so much bigger than Rumple. And yes, Rumple might have a gun on him, but I figured that to tie him up, at some point, he'd have to put the gun away and would be fairly easy to overpower, so how did he do it? This was what I worked with. I hope you'll find it acceptable. And now, on to the next chapter. It's a bit of a doozy! Peace and Happy Reading!


	28. The Middle of Something

He hadn't hit Moe hard. In truth, he'd been aiming more to disorient him than actually to knock him unconscious. But he was out just long enough for him to tie his hands together in front of his enormous belly. With the final knot, Moe French began to come around. He groaned and blinked his bleary eyes looking around to figure out where he was and what was going on when he realized his hands were tied and finally spotted him. His eyes widened in fear, and he felt pride swell up inside of him at the image. It did make him feel like his old self again. No! Better than his old self! Because this was what he'd always wanted to do to Belle's father after he'd heard the news, he'd always wanted to kill him, to make him afraid, to let him feel the same desperation his own daughter might have felt before she'd been compelled to take her own life. And he didn't need magic to do it…glorious.

"What are you going to do to me?"

Anger reared its head again, tearing through him like a dozen knives at those words. Those words…those exact fucking words. They made his chest constrict and tighten as he recalled a moment in time when he perhaps could have changed the course of history, could have spared Belle's life, and changed the outcome of all this.

 _So, what are you going to do to me?_ she'd asked.

Love you, if you'll forgive me…how he wished he'd replied with those words. Instead, he was here, leering over a fat old man, and doing the one thing he hated to do…wish.

He ripped a piece of duct tape from the roll he'd just purchased and placed it over the former King's mouth. "We're going on a little trip," he explained as he moved to the driver's seat. "And once we've arrived, we'll have a nice little chat. Unless, of course, you'd like to tell me where it is before we begin?" He glanced over his shoulder only to see Moe watching him with scared eyes. He neither nodded nor shook his head. Coward. "Didn't think so..."

It finally started to rain while they drove out of town. The once former King made muffled noises the entire way as if he was trying to speak with him, but it was useless with the tape over his mouth. He ignored the moans and groans of his cargo, kept his eyes on the road, and continued to drive to what he had already decided was "the perfect spot" for interrogation. It was a place away from others, a place deep in the woods, a place that Moe French could scream all he liked, but no one would hear him.

His false memories told him that this cabin had been in his family since his Aunt had bought the land. His family had meant to start some sort of vacationing business with it, but they kept one of the better cabins for personal use. He had "memories" of coming up to this place as a child, but the truth was that he'd never been here before. Though he knew the layout, knew all the furniture, knew what was inside every single drawer in the kitchen, he'd never stayed here. Mr. Gold wasn't one to take vacations or time off of any kind. He preferred to be working in town. And so, the cabin had gone unused all these years.

As he pulled into the long driveway for it, he smiled. It was good that he'd finally found a decent use for it.

He shut off the truck's engine and pulled his gun out once more to give it a check. Only then did he lower himself down to the ground and begin his stroll to the back of the van. He had a plan, a good plan. But part of knowing how to plan was assessing the riskiest parts of that plan. Getting Moe into the van had been risky. But getting him from the van to the house…that was riskier.

He was smaller than Moe and obviously less mobile. He could only imagine what it would be like if Moe decided to run into the woods. He'd be lost, obviously, or fall and injure himself, and there would be very little he could do from there on his own. He could call Dove, but he wanted to keep Dove and anyone else away from this situation. If he had to bring someone else in, it wouldn't end the way he wanted it to. He had a gun, if Moe decided to run, then he could shoot, but he didn't want the man dead. If he was dead, then his answers were gone. Maurice was a coward. At least that was his assessment of him in their land. Unwilling to do what was necessary until it was too late, unable to make difficult decisions, even unable to chase after his only daughter once she'd made the decision and the sacrifice for him. The monster hadn't even had the balls to send a soldier to do his dirty work. Maurice was a coward. For his sake, he hoped that Moe would be too.

At the back of the van, he pointed his gun at Moe. "Walk!" he shouted, trying to sound as angry and intimidating as possible. He couldn't shoot him, but he wanted him to think that if he tried anything stupid, he would. He watched as Moe edged himself out of the back of the truck, finally sliding to the ground with a weighted "thud." Then, gun pointed at his back, he ushered the large man to the door and pointed him inside.

"You see, here's the thing…" he explained as he let Moe French into the cabin, "I don't normally let people get away."

He slammed the door, letting Moe jump at the noise. Then he took a look around. He'd never been here in his life, not once in the twenty-eight years Storybrooke had existed…and the cabin smelled like it too. It was musty. The air was damp and stale all at once, in desperate need of a breeze and the smell of rain to clear it out. It was dusty too. Everything in his life was dusty. Odd how he'd never noticed that in his life. It would have driven Belle crazy. Now, the dust mocked him. It made her absence so much more palpable than it had been a few moments ago. And just like that, it was as if he could suddenly see the holes, the places in his life that she belonged but were left unfilled. The library across the street from the shop. The dust all around him. Anger and rage that built inside of him unchecked and unsoothed. Conversations he'd never get to have with anyone. Teacups that were unchipped, meaningless. One of those things he had hope he could fix.

He took the duct tape off of the man's mouth and sat him down on a low bench against the wall, one that would ensure he was always taller and capable of towering over him. Then, against every desire he had, he set the gun down. He had to. He wanted too much to kill the man responsible for the death of the best person he'd ever known, the greatest love he'd ever experienced. He wanted him to die just as she had…but he needed him alive. And looking around this place, seeing and feeling the places she was not, even here, he felt his temper stir. He was smart enough to know that if the gun were on him, it would be too tempting to use it if he frustrated him. For getting him to talk, his cane would do the trick. Annoying and cumbersome as it was, over the years, he'd come to find just how effective a tool it could be.

He grabbed a chair for himself and dragged it over to Mr. French as he whined. "Let me explain, okay? Let me explain."

Explain…explain what, exactly? Why he'd stolen items of value and taken one cup that was both worthless and priceless? Explain why he was alone? Explain why the daughter who had loved him, sacrificed her life for him, had been held against her will in a tower for that sacrifice. How she'd been tortured? How he'd stood by and watched that beautiful light inside of her dim to the point that she felt she had no other choice but to throw herself from the tower and jump to her death? He didn't want to hear it. There was no suitable or acceptable explanation for any of it.

"Oh. Well, that is…fascinating. Truly fascinating!" he exclaimed sarcastically. Then took his cane and pressed it into the man's throat.

Poor Moe gagged. He flinched away from it, brought his hands up to defend himself as best he could, but there wasn't much he could do against him. Not much, but listen and give him his answers. If he couldn't have Belle, he would have her cup back. It was all he had left of her. He'd be damned if he was going to take it away.

"I'm going to let you breathe in a second, and you're going to say two sentences. The first is going to tell me where it is. The second is going to tell me who told you to take it. Do you understand the rules?"

Moe didn't respond. Of course, that could have had something to do with the fact that his cane was pressing down on his windpipe. In that case, he'd take his lack of a response as a response.

"Good. Let's begin."

He pulled the cane from his throat, and Moe French eased, gasping in breath after breath of air. He leaned forward and waited. Two sentences. He hadn't been joking. All he needed to hear were those two sentences, and he'd be content. He'd let the man go, or at least that was what he told himself he'd do. He didn't fear persecution from him! Moe French had just as much of a spine as King Maurice had. He just needed to know where Belle's cup was and if it had been Regina who suggested he take it!

Finally, Moe opened his mouth. "I needed that van..."

"Ah-h-h-h!" he interrupted as anger and excitement mingled inside of him, and he took hold of the cane at the bottom, turning it into an altogether different object. In his pocket he felt his phone vibrate, there was a phone call coming in, but he couldn't be bothered to answer because he was in the middle of something. He didn't know how much he'd wanted Moe French to defy him until just that moment. Now that he had, there were a few lessons he'd been dying to teach him.

"Now, you see, that is not a good first sentence!" he cried before bringing the head of the cane down on him.

Lesson one: pain.

"Ow! Gold! Listen!"

"Tell me where it is!"

Lesson two: reward sacrifice, don't kill it!

"Ow!" he screamed as he hit him again. "Stop!"

"Tell me where it is!"

Lesson three: respect.

"Ow! Stop! It wasn't my fault!"

A shiver ran through his body at those words. "'My fault'? What are you talking about, 'my fault'?"

Fault. He wanted to talk about fault?! Fantastic!

Lesson four: whose fault was it that he was alone? Whose fault was it that they were both alone? That he was the way he was? Whose fault was it that so many in Storybrooke would hold their loved ones close tomorrow night while all he held close was a damaged cup made of porcelain?!

His.

"You shut her out. You had her love, and you shut her out!"

Lesson five: good parenting!

French screamed again as he delivered the blow.

"She's gone. She's gone forever – she's not coming back. And it's your fault!"

Lesson six: kindness.

"Not mine!"

Lesson seven: acceptance!

"You are her father!

Lesson eight: personal property!

"Yours! It's yours!"

Lesson nine: strength.

Lesson ten…love.

He lost track of the number of times he hit him after that, completely forgot to remember what the lessons were supposed to be. The world faded away as he administered blow after blow after blow. He didn't know the words coming out of his mouth. He became numb to the ringing of his phone blended together with the yelps coming out of Maurice when he suddenly felt a hand close over his wrist.

Emma Swan.

"Stop!" she ordered.

He looked at Moe, and suddenly, an image surfaced in his mind, a picture of Belle smiling at him after she'd begged him not to kill Robin Hood, and he hadn't. Calm broke over him like a breeched damn at the memory, and the fire inside of him extinguished. He cooled as he remembered her face, remembered the feel of her when she'd thrown her arms around him and what she'd helped him to feel stirring inside the now empty place in his chest.

He stopped. Belle didn't give him a choice. Neither did the Swan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a difficult chapter to write on several fronts. First of all, it's an incomplete scene. It's paired with flashes back to Rumple at the castle, basically going on his destruction-spree. There were a lot of gaps to fill in, and I had to figure out a way to write around what is basically "he hit Moe French a lot." Of course, this chapter offered the same difficulty that the chapter of Rumple back at the castle offered. I can't ever imagine being this angry or wanting to hurt someone to this degree. So I did my best to step into Rumple's shoes here. Ultimately, I felt like those lessons were great ways to solve both problems. I hope it was enough.
> 
> Thank you so much, RolfB, for commenting the previous chapter. This is an important one so I'm nervous about what you'll have to say. I hope that it's decent enough and makes sense given the situation. Fingers crossed you like it. Peace and Happy Reading!


	29. All Things Considered

Perhaps this was a fitting ending to the evening. Waiting by a squad car, the woods and his cabin bathed in blue and red lights, light rain drizzling down the back of his neck making him shiver…

An ambulance pulled up behind the Game of Thrones Truck, and a couple of paramedics, complete with a gurney, entered his property. He mentally reviewed what had happened in the last thirty minutes to lead him to this dismal place. Emma had found him, alone save for Moe French, who was a bloody pulp by the time she'd gotten there. She'd managed to pry him away and send him to the other side of the room where he'd cooled down, and she'd inspected him.

"I'm gonna take a shot in the dark and assume this is Moe French," she'd sighed before pulling out her phone.

"No one steals from me," he responded as Moe lay there, his head rolling back and forth, fading in and out of consciousness. Emma ordered an ambulance, told them where to find them all, and tried to help Moe by waking him up and keeping him awake by trying to get him to speak. But nothing had ever come from Moe's mouth. Not that he was surprised. Once a coward, always a coward. He should know. The problem was that Emma was smart, he didn't know what she'd seen exactly, but he knew that she'd seen enough not to believe for a second the story that he gave her.

"Moe called me, told me he wanted to exchange the other missing goods for his truck and a five-year extension on his loan. I suggested my cabin, and we were just discussing it when he tripped and fell. Isn't that right, Mr. French?"

No response, not that he'd needed it. Emma had seen him take a swing at him with his cane. She knew it was a lie, just as he did. The only thing was that if he were smart, he'd forget it was a lie and go along with it. Two against one was all it would take to gain his freedom, and when that one person was Emma, already disgraced and distrusted after her little stunt at the Council Meeting, well…she wouldn't be a problem.

It wasn't long after that she'd excused him to go and wait by the car. He could have left. He could have taken Moe's truck and gone back to town, but he didn't see the point. There was nowhere he could run. So he'd done as she instructed. He'd had time to think and to decide that this was probably a better ending than he could have hoped for. He'd imagined a lot about this situation, but looking at it now, he knew that he had acted in haste. He'd only been able to see the moment that he got that chipped cup back. Everything else beyond that he hadn't planned for. That was stupid on his part. Not thinking a plan all the way through to the end was a mistake an amateur might make. He had to be careful not to behave that way again, no matter what the concern was.

The concern…all this and still no teacup. All this and still no confirmation of who had told Moe French to take it. Really, what good had tonight been?

"So, I heard you managed not to break anything he needs," he glanced up to find Emma Swan approaching him as Moe was loaded into the back of the ambulance. Done already…how time could fly… "You're lucky, Mr. Gold."

He let out a snort of derision. He knew what was coming. Of course, he knew that nothing would hold up, and he'd be free again this time tomorrow, but until Moe French was stable and awake, he still knew what was coming. And without Belle's chipped cup to show for it…he wouldn't call any of this lucky.

"You got a funny definition of lucky."

"You have a funny definition of justice," Emma commented, crossing her arms over her chest and eyeing him with suspicion. "What did he really do?"

She wasn't ready for that answer yet. As much as he wanted her to be, he knew it was true. It was another comment to be added to the "someday" category, and until then…

"He stole," he explained away, the exact same explanation he'd offered before. Consistency was everything.

But the Savior balked at his response. "That reaction was about more than taking a few trinkets. You said something about how he hurt 'her,' what happened to 'her'…" he shifted his weight uncomfortably. He could hardly remember what he'd said to the worm, much less keep track of what she had or had not heard. "Who was that? What did he do? If someone needs help, maybe I can help."

Always the Savior and yet…so far from the real thing. "No. I'm sorry, Sheriff. I think you heard that wrong," he scoffed, looking into the distant blackness. Someday…

"You really don't want to cooperate?" she questioned with a mix of irritation and amazement.

No…he really didn't…because until he found a way to start winning again and turn her into the Savior she was, then she would never really understand what had happened. Then again, even if she knew, he doubted anyone would ever understand. Who could ever learn to love a beast like him? No one. Not anymore.

"Look, we're done here."

He'd tried. He'd tried to walk off and go to the front seat of the car, to play it off and escape what he'd known was coming, but he wasn't surprised when Emma stopped him. She was a better Sheriff than Regina gave her credit for. There was never any chance she'd let this go.

"Actually, we're not. You're under arrest…"

He stared at her as she finished reading his rights, trying to convey irritation and intimidation all at once, but he knew she was too strong-willed to care, and frankly, he didn't care that she was. He'd be free soon enough, that much he knew-

His heart stopped as she patted him down, and she reached into his pocket and pulled away his phone. She flipped it open, and he tried to maintain his calm demeanor all the while the lawyer inside of him was working away. Dove…the vibration…he had called, hadn't he? He hadn't tried to send him messages, anything that would implicate him. And the messages about Swan's movements over the last few months, he'd deleted every single one of them…hadn't he?

Emma's gaze slid to his own. "Who is Dove?"

He wanted so badly to swallow his nerves down, but he knew swallowing would show his anxiety. He didn't know what she was looking at now, but he wanted to convey innocence, or at the very least, control.

"An associate."

Emma raised her eyebrows and pushed a button. "Looks like he's been trying to reach you."

"I've no doubt he has." In fact, Dove had probably been trying to warn him that Emma was on his property. He wished he'd taken that call.

"Oh…" Emma suddenly piqued, turning the phone for him to look at the screen. He could hear the thing vibrating, and he didn't need to see it to know Dove was calling again. "Looks like he's trying to reach you now."

"Well…given the situation, I do believe I get one phone call," he smiled, motioning to his cuffs.

Emma smirked. "Make it quick," she explained, handing him the phone. He took it, but as the ambulance drove away, he noted that she didn't make any effort to leave him.

"Some privacy? Or must I explain the law to you?"

"Oh no, you don't, you're in my custody, and unless he's your lawyer and you can provide credentials to prove that, you have no reasonable expectation of privacy."

Smart woman. "Glad to see I made the right choice in Sheriff," he sneered before answering.

"Sir, I tried to tell you, I tried to warn you-"

"Don't speak," he stated, interrupting Dove so that she wouldn't hear anything more than he wanted to. His statements made it clear that obviously he was watching from somewhere nearby, dutifully looking after Emma after he'd taken Moe. Hell, he'd probably seen Emma take the phone from him and decided to call right then, thinking it was his best chance to reach him. But Emma wasn't his biggest concern now. He had only one message for his accomplice and only one chance to convey that message. There was no room for anything else. "I appear to be in a predicament, Mr. Dove. You know what to do."

"Yes, Sir."

"Once it's done, don't contact me until I contact you."

"Understood, Sir." He closed the phone and handed it back to her, but not before purposefully shutting it off.

"Quick conversation...and coded. How convenient," she explained as she pocketed it and helped him into the back.

"I'm a man of few words."

"Yeah…I'm coming to find that," she muttered before she shut the door, and they began a drive away from the cabin, following the ambulance back to the police station for what he was sure was going to be a long night. But as he glanced at Moe in the back of the ambulance, on oxygen, bleeding, and red with bruises that matched the shape of his cane's handle, he managed a smirk.

For Belle…it was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There wasn't too much to frame here, so I think the bulk of this chapter's important stuff is in the framing itself. This was one chapter, especially where I was thrilled I was able to add Dove into the story because I think that his role in this chapter and the others will be necessary, even if he's just going to be conveying important information to Rumple. It was also fun to imagine what was in his mind after Emma found him and he was at the car waiting for her. That's a dismal comment, I know, but I like being able to get into his head, and this seemed the prime opportunity to take a peek inside.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments. I hope you'll enjoy this one. Even though I'm not crazy about where the story is going in the second half, I liked setting it all up. In the next few chapters, we're going to close out 1x12 in addition to setting up everything for the second half. And my oh my, there are some twists and turns around every corner. Not to mention, there is a little surprise for you waiting in 1x13 that I think you'll enjoy. But for now, coming up next is one of the best scenes from OUAT, in my opinion. It was truly the scene that made me really fall in love with the series, and I'm excited to present it to you! Peace and Happy Reading!


	30. His Real Name

He was waiting for his arraignment. Or at least that's what Emma thought he was waiting for. In reality, he was waiting for Dove to get him out of this mess, for Moe French to wake and say he wouldn't be pressing charges, for him to give whatever story Dove forced him to give so that he could get out of this place. He was waiting to go after Regina and find Belle's cup, which was still out there in the world somewhere. This wouldn't be done until he had it back. He'd burn down the whole fucking town to find it if he had to. And he knew who he was going to start with this time.

Regina. It was always Regina. He'd been stupid in trying to go through Moe French, in trying to deny what was obviously happening. He was paying for it now. But in a few hours, when Dove finished his work, he'd go to Regina. He'd get his property back. He'd find a way to make this work in his favor. He always did. And if it didn't? Well, the Curse was cast. He was in the World Without Magic. He didn't technically need Regina anymore. She could be dealt with any way that he needed to deal with her; any way that got him his cup back…

"Pastrami…you want half?"

He glanced through the bars to Emma, who sat eating her lunch in her office. This wasn't the first time she'd tried to engage him in conversation. She tried the first half of the night before finally leaving him alone to rest for a few hours and then tried again this morning when she gave him some childish pastry as a "breakfast." She'd tried to talk to him…she'd failed. She forgot, he was a lawyer. He knew better than to talk to her, no matter how tired or angry or hungry for real food he was.

"You know, I still owe you that favor. Nice, fatty pastrami; delicious way to clear the books."

"Well, I don't need a reminder that you owe me a favor," he answered. "And when the day comes that I make my request, it'll be for more than half a sandwich." It would be for his son. The last person on this earth who might still care about him. If he didn't have Belle's love or her cup, that was something to hold on to at least.

But suddenly, Emma didn't seem to care about his ominous threat. Suddenly her attention was no longer on him or her sandwich but someone else.

Regina Mills. She stood there as if by magic like his thoughts had summoned her.

And Henry, the real person Emma was interested in.

"Sheriff Swan? I'm letting you have thirty minutes with Henry. Take him out, buy him ice cream."

Oh…this was an interesting twist, one of great desperation. He knew from Dove's accounts that Emma hadn't spent time with her son in weeks; she hadn't been permitted to, not since the council meeting. Regina wouldn't offer up Henry, not unless she wanted to talk about something important. More important than Emma Swan's upcoming review and potential firing.

As she turned her gaze to him, sitting behind bars, he had a terrible feeling about what was about to happen. If he was right, the Evil Queen had just played her game well, even better than she had been before. If he was wrong…well…he couldn't think of a scenario where he was wrong. Fuck, what had he done?

"You want me to leave you alone with a prisoner?" Emma countered in disbelief.

Regina closed her eyes in irritation. "Twenty-nine and a half minutes," she snapped without looking at her. She couldn't. She was too busy staring at him like a mouse caught in a trap. Shit.

"Hi, Emma," the boy smiled. It was one that he, as a parent knew another parent would find tantalizing.

"Hey," Emma smiled back. He was fucked. By Regina of all people! Not exactly something he wanted the Swan to see. And if she knew, well…The Savior didn't "know" anything yet. She wasn't ready.

"Bring me back a cone?" he remarked calmly.

Control. He needed to regain his control. This wasn't the first deal he'd ever made, and he'd be damned if it was going to be his last. He just needed to start thinking like the Dark One and not like Mr. Gold.

As Emma exclaimed, "Just this once. Come on, let's go!" and ushered Henry out the door, leaving him alone with the former Evil Queen, he tried to remember his old tricks. He tried to remember how to regain control when he had so little of it. Unfortunately, the last time he'd had little control was when he was human, and he'd never negotiated his way out of that, not without fucking magic that he still didn't possess! But the stakes were as high. If this was about what he suddenly feared it was, then he couldn't afford to slip this up or be nervous. Control. He had to take it back. How?!

"Well, you really wanted that little chat, didn't you?"

"Apparently, this is the only way I could do it," she smiled, a wicked, evil smile that made his palms sweat. Her inner queen was showing, in a way that it hadn't been before, not in twenty-eight years. She was confident, sure of herself. And why shouldn't she be? She'd played him, just like he might have in the good ole days. And if she was so comfortable showing this side of herself…it was because she knew. This conversation, as far as she was concerned, was only a formality. She had him cornered. But he wasn't without tricks here; one, in particular, could come in handy, and without anything else at his disposal…

"Please – sit," he commanded, pointing at the sofa by his cell.

She obeyed. Power. Control. Though she'd initially grimaced when he'd given the order now that she was sitting again, she was smiling again too, grinning that same sinister grin she'd just had. If they were bound to have this conversation, then there was no possible way he was going to let her think she was running it, even if he knew she was. Dammit. When he'd pictured confronting her, it hadn't been like this.

"Now, when two people both want something the other has, a deal can always be struck. Do you have what I want?"

Her smile broadened so that she beamed. "Yes."

Fuck.

He let himself breathe deep, first with relief. Upsetting as that answer was, at least now he knew where Belle's treasure was. And now he knew it was safe. Regina wasn't stupid. She wouldn't hurt it; she'd use it as a bargaining chip. Bargaining for something unknown was the part that worried him after the relief wore off.

"So, you did put him up to it, then," he stated, revealing he wasn't ignorant to the way she worked.

"I merely suggested that strong men take what they need."

"Oh, yeah…and you told him just exactly what to take, didn't you?"

"We used to know each other so well, Mr. Gold. Has it really come down to this?"

"It seems it has, yeah," he nodded. So much pretense…if they were going to do this, then they may as well get to it. "But you know what I want, what is it you want?"

"I want you to answer one question," she hissed. "And answer it simply: what's your name?"

He smirked. She'd made an error, one that most amateurs in deal-making made. She hadn't been specific enough. "Answer one question simply" was not answer one question truthfully or honestly. "Simply"…simply gave him options.

"It's Mr. Gold."

Regina lowered her gaze and glared at him, the glare of an angry Queen who was sick of being lied to. "Your real name," she growled.

He felt no pressure. The deal had been to answer one question simply. Asking him his real name wasn't a requirement of the deal they'd struck, which meant he was free to respond as he saw fit. Even if he knew that there was no way this would work in his favor in the end. She held all the cards.

"Every moment I've spent on this earth, that's been my name."

"But what about moments spent elsewhere?" she questioned, finally realizing her own mistakes.

It was going to end the way it was going to end, but that didn't mean he couldn't have fun with it until it did, or at least attempt to evade her. He drew a look of confusion over his face and shook his head.

"What are you asking me?"

"I think you know," she stated, a reply full of double meaning. "If you want me to return what's yours, tell me your name."

And there it was. Her ace in the hole. He could sit here and use loophole after loophole, but there was no magic here. He could lie to her, adamantly refuse, but then what of Belle's teacup. If she walked out of here angry, then he risked its safety. That would seem a proper punishment to Regina. And he could say "please," ask her to "please" return his property…but another "please" at a time like this would damn near confirm it anyway. Pretend all he could, but she had the advantage. She had him in a corner, his back to the wall.

Dammit, Regina had won.

She was going to get the answer she wanted or leave him with nothing. At least this way, he'd get his ace back.

He felt his lips curl into a sneer as he let out a breath of defeat and finally whispered the truth Emma wasn't ready to believe.

"Rumpelstiltskin…"

The moment he said the words, Regina's grin vanished and fear overshadowed her. Odd reaction. For someone who had seemed so sure of herself, she suddenly looked like she'd been hoping she was wrong. Pity. One should never make a deal they weren't prepared for. Finally, he clawed at the bars and pulled himself up to his feet before she could go back on her deal in a Land Without Magic where revenge would be twice as hard. She would keep this deal!

"Now give me what I want."

"Such hostility?" Her Majesty mocked.

"Oh, yeah!"

Finally, she turned to the bag she'd brought, reached inside, and produced…Belle's chipped cup.

Safe.

Sound.

In one piece, save for the chip that made it so special.

The sight of it, the knowledge that it was safe and back in his presence, nearly made his heart stop.

"Over this?" she questioned, dangling it in front of him, forcing him to reach through the bars to try and grasp it. "Such a sentimental little keepsake."

Finally, his fingers closed over it and he pulled it through the bars. "Thank you…Your Majesty," he mocked, holding it tight in his hands.

Safe and sound. He inspected it, checking for further damage but found none. That was something, at least. Ironic…he'd wanted to spend Valentine's Day alone with this cup…he might get his wish after all. So long as he could get rid of Regina.

"So. Now that we're being honest with each other, let's remember how things used to be, shall we? And don't let these bars fool you, dear. I'm the one with the power around here. I'm going to be out of here in no time, and nothing between us will change."

Suddenly Regina got to her feet. She gripped the bars and pressed her face close to the bars. "We shall see," she hissed before taking her leave.

He was afraid. Things were bad already, at risk. And now Regina had won, forced him to reveal his hand too early. This was bad. But as he looked down and beheld the cup in his hand, no sooner had a small voice in the back of his head whispered "was it worth it" than a louder voice proclaimed, without question, "yes, Belle was always worth it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A small voice in the back of his head," one that doubts him...just a voice? Or one of the Dark One's of the past breaking through in the midst of a breaking Curse? Your choice.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter. Of course, I am interested to hear what you have to say about this scene since it is so iconic. It was the first scene that I think ever made me really fall in love with a television show. Does it work here? I think it certainly translates better to page than some of the chapters that are action scenes. But does it really capture that magic? That's really up to you. I hope it does, but if not, I at least hope going through Rumple's thoughts throughout the scene are interesting. We're still not "done" with 1x12, but up next will be the last chapter. I needed it to wrap things up and usher us into the second half of the season. So, let me know what you think of this chapter, and if you are ready for the next chapter, then let's get to it! There's a nice little nod to the Rumpelstiltskin of old I think we've all been wanting to see. Peace and Happy Reading!


	31. Valentine's Day

He was furious. But also oddly at peace. Anger and love, two emotions at odds within him…that was nothing new. He felt like he'd been made of nothing but anger and love for so long it was difficult to remember a time he felt anything else but anger or love.

He was home, but not in the way he'd wanted to be. He'd waited until late afternoon for Dove to work his magic and for the call that said the charges were dropped, but no call ever came. Emma escorted him to the courthouse that afternoon, where he met with the Defense Attorney, Albert Spencer, formerly known as King George, and the judge, a little man he couldn't place from their world, privately in chambers. Albert said what was required of him. He acted on his own behalf, having dismissed the pathetic public defender they'd summoned for him the moment he entered. And just like that, it was done. He was released on bail. Free to go home. He met Emma outside, paid the bill, and walked to his car a free man, at least until he could figure out how the hell this had all gone to hell so fast!

But for now, he was home and looking forward to a shower and a fresh change of clothes until he finally turned on his cell phone walking up his stairs, and was immediately inundated with a call from none other than Dove. He clenched his teeth together as he ignored the call, went into his room, set the teacup on his chest of drawers, began to prepare for a shower…and Dove called him yet again.

Persistence, that never boded well with his feathery spy. And so, angry as he was at him for his failure, he picked the phone up and sat on the bed.

"I told you not to call me until I contacted you!" he growled.

"Sir, I know, but I thought you should know…I smell a rat."

"Then call an exterminator, Mr. Dove."

"No, Sir, you don't understand…it's not that."

"Speak fast, Mr. Dove; my patience is thin on account of being in jail all day."

On the other end Dove sighed, and he could hear the disappointment in that response. He knew what he'd done. That counted for something. "I tried to get you out, really I did, but the Mayor-"

"The Mayor what…" he prompted, glancing over at the teacup and feeling his stomach flip.

"She had guards on Moe. Not the police, private guards. They were there the second I got there. It was like she was waiting for this. They stood outside his hospital the entire time. I saw the DA go in, and I saw the Mayor go in, even Emma at one point…I couldn't have gotten to him, Sir. It was only my cousin who works there that told me the guards were hired by the Mayor personally; otherwise, I'd have nothing. I thought I should warn you. Something doesn't smell right."

"That's very interesting…"

Anger hollowed out a hole in him. Once in the shower, it carved a void down deep inside of his chest. As he dressed, anger squeezed down into that burrow and made itself at home. Anger planted roots in him. Anger made hatred grow and grow and grow until he was certain that he was red in the face, and he wanted so very badly to throw something just for the pleasure of watching it break!

And then he laid eyes on Belle's cup again. He'd been carrying it with him since Regina had given it back to him. He exhaled, breathed anger out, and held it safely between his hands as the urge to break and maim and kill died away, at least for this moment. Once upon a time, he'd thought that Belle had cast some spell on him; it was the only way that he could reason she'd ever gotten through his thick skin and into his heart. Now he wondered if she hadn't cast some of that magic into this little teacup. This was twice now that he'd wanted so badly to break something and instead seen it and felt his anger return to a simmer.

He was angry, but when he looked over her teacup, the chip just as perfect as he recalled, he felt peace wash over him. It was ironic. Yesterday, before this very cup had been stolen, all he'd wanted to do on Valentine's Day was be alone in his home, with this very cup. And now here he was, Valentine's Day. It hadn't exactly turned out the way he'd wanted to, but he was, in fact, alone in his home, with Belle's chipped cup, the last and only piece of her he had. If he couldn't be with her, then he wanted to spend time with it.

He wanted to think.

And suddenly, he realized, as he stared into Belle's cup, he was in the unique position to think in the way he really wanted to for the first time in a very long time. Cup in hand, he raced out of his room, at least as much as his cane would allow him, and down into the formal living room. And there it was, waiting for him, taunting him ever since he'd "woken up," until now.

A spinning wheel.

Not one of his. Not one he'd ever used before; it was just a Saxony Wheel Mr. Gold had put there for decoration and forgotten about. He, on the other hand, had been dying to do some spinning ever since remembering who he was. He'd avoided it, fearful that if Regina had a way to look in, she might spot him working the wheel and put two and two together. But now the secret was out; what the hell did he care if Regina saw him spinning? She already knew who he was! The situation was bad in nearly every single way, except this one. He always did his best thinking in front of a wheel.

He didn't have any wool, so he took a knife to a couple of pillows to get at the synthetic cotton fibers inside. It was a poor substitute and would make even poorer thread, but he didn't care what the quality would be; he wanted the motion. He wanted the familiar routine of pushing the treadle and spinning the wheel. He wanted to watch the bobbin fill with thread, no matter what quality it was. He wanted to think, and so he did. Alone in the living room, Belle's cup by his side, fingers flying, it was almost like those days in the castle after dinner when they would sit together.

His thoughts flowed right along with the flow of the wheel. All kinds of thoughts. Thoughts of love. Thoughts of anger. Thoughts of curiosity.

Regina had planned on all this, that much was clear. It was unclear when she'd begun her plan. Had his name been what she'd wanted to talk about yesterday morning? Or was it really Emma Swan, and he'd finally just tipped her own curiosity when he used their special word against her again? He wasn't sure. But he was sure that for once in her life, she'd played a better game than he had.

No. Not a game. A round. A single battle.

Cora had once won against him as well. He'd comforted himself knowing that even though he'd lost that one particular battle, in the end, he'd still win the war and get her daughter. This was no different. Like mother like daughter. Regina had won this round, won this battle, but he would figure out a way to break this Curse and see his son again. He would win the war. He just had to get a plan together.

Regina was planning something, or at least she would be if she was smart. But he couldn't let that happen. Having her plan something, alone, meant there would be a lack of control on his part. It meant standing to the side and watching helplessly as she worked her magic. It meant spying with Dove to try and figure out what she was planning.

But…if he worked ahead of her, if he did the planning for her, not only might he gain Regina's trust, but he'd also firmly put himself back in the driver's seat again. He'd regain some of the control he'd lost today. He'd be able to make this better. He just needed to create a plan that coincided with Regina's, a better plan than she'd be able to come up with, one that was so superior she couldn't refuse help from her old teacher. So, what was it that Regina had been planning? He needed to tap into her mind.

She'd known that no matter how things went down, he would have gotten himself out of jail, and she'd have had time to talk to him. So why go so far as to cut Dove off completely? Why not let him carry through with his plans once they'd had their conversation?

Because she'd wanted to do it herself, he realized.

Dove had told him that Regina had been at the hospital with Spencer. He would be the prosecutor in the case against him. Spencer and Regina worked together all the time. He'd been hoping Dove would get French to drop the case. But Regina hadn't wanted that to happen, and he very much so doubted it was because she suddenly felt a mayorly urge to make sure justice was served. So if not for justice, then why would she stop it?

Blackmail. The answer came to him so clearly and obviously, he didn't know why he hadn't seen it before. Regina knew who he was and what he was capable of, not only in this world but in theirs as well. He may not have magic, but he was still smart, still cunning and clever. Despite what he could do to her, she'd still freed him from prison. She'd stopped Dove from doing that very thing because she wanted to do it. Dove would have gotten French to drop charges, but Regina...she could get Spencer to drop the case. She was the only one powerful enough in town to pull those kinds of strings. And when she did, then he would find himself in her debt. He'd owe her a favor. That was her plan.

The only question now was what would she use it for.

He stopped the wheel and stared at Belle's cup as everything fell into place. What would Regina use a favor for? The same thing that she'd always used favors for! The one thing she'd always wanted…revenge on Snow White, Mary Margaret.

David and Mary Margaret had hardly been discreet with their affair, and he knew that Regina knew about it, and that was sure to make her angry. After going through all this trouble, David and Mary Margaret were going to be together again, just like Snow White and Prince Charming. From there, it was only a matter of time until they defeated her, at least in her mind.

But he knew better. He knew that course of thinking was wrong. It was all wrong. She was angry with the wrong person. Snow White was distracting her from her real problem, the real fight that she had to reengage in. He needed Regina not to face off with Snow White but rather her daughter.

He needed a plan. One that helped Regina feel like she was winning an imaginary war against her step-daughter, only to help her lose the real one with the Savior. He needed a plan that put himself on both sides. It was possible. Hundreds of years of living told him that it was very possible. But without magic, without a cauldron or mirrors, it was going to be exceptionally tricky.

He was going to need help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter for 1x12. I really, really wanted Rumple to have that moment of clarity, to show how his mind works and even just how well he knows Regina. He's stumbled upon her plan with really only a call from Dove, no magic required, all because he knows Regina well. This chapter is a lot of inner thought, I know that, but it's also important because it is the link between the first half of the season and the second half of the season. Hopefully, from where things stand here now, you can see how this chapter is the end of one and the beginning of the other.
> 
> Many thanks to RolfB and Futuresunshine for letting me know you liked the last chapter! We are officially halfway through this fiction now! Can you believe it? And I've gifted you with a nice little throwback in celebration. I really wanted Rumple to get spinning again. He's been wanting to do it forever, and it's been a while since we saw him get the opportunity to do that. He's been holding off since he woke up out of a fear that Regina has magic and might be spying on him. If she saw him spin, then she'd know who he is. But in the chapter, we can see that the worst has already happened. She already knows he remembers, so this was a perfect place to have him throw his hands into the air and say "may as well". I hope you enjoy it! Peace and Happy Reading!


	32. Hired Help

He had a plan.

Was it a good plan? That was subjective.

Was it a risky plan? Without a doubt.

Was it worthy of Rumpelstiltskin, the Dark One who had once managed to turn an innocent young girl into an Evil Queen and cast the Curse to End All Curses?

If it worked…then he'd know for sure.

One thing he was positive about, all his best plans were consistently well thought out and planned ahead. That was how the centuries had taught him to work. He wanted all his ducks in a row before he made the first step. And he wanted to be sure that he made the first step before Regina had the opportunity to lift her foot. With his court date set and the clock ticking, he didn't have a moment to waste. He had every intention of going to see Regina that afternoon, of setting his plans in motion formally, which was why he'd invited Dove into the shop first thing that morning. He was going to need help with this one, and he needed to be sure he could rely on that help…informally.

"We find ourselves in a bit of a predicament, Mr. Dove," he informed him once he stood opposite the glass case from him.

"Because of me?" he questioned uncertainly. And with good reason. After what happened yesterday, he was sorely tempted to blame it all on him. Everything. The arrest, the shift in power between him and Regina, even the theft of Belle's teacup. But ultimately, he knew it wasn't true.

If anything, the events of the last seventy-two hours were his own fault. He'd made Regina too determined. He'd been too foolish and loose with what he had done to taunt and tempt her since he'd come out of his Curse. And of course, the way he'd behaved leading up to Valentine's Day…he hadn't played smart. Love always was a weakness, and when it came to Belle, she always had been his weakness, right along with Baelfire, which was why he'd brought the teacup and Baelfire's shawl back to his shop this morning. His shop had been robbed, and his home had been robbed, so until he had magic back, there was no such thing as a "safe space." The teacup, he assumed, was safe now. The only one who might find value in it was Regina, and since she knew about it and they'd made a deal for it, he assumed it now had an immunity with her. He'd trained Regina; she wouldn't be stupid enough to try the same thing twice. Bae's shawl was safely tucked away in a drawer in the back. It wasn't much, but since he was here far more than he was home, it was a better alternative.

"It's not," he gently assured Dove. He would have liked to blame it all on him, but it wasn't his fault. Besides, he needed Dove for what he was about to attempt. Even he acknowledged that what he was about to ask of him was a leap. Dove was confidence-driven, not guilt-driven. There was no reason to discourage him before he hit him with such a big request. "Regina played a game better than we did. We have to take the lead back."

"You make it sound like a competition."

"Perhaps it is…" he muttered, glancing up at him. This was crazy. This was risky in a way he'd never attempted before. But there was no reward without risk. "Do you trust me, Remy?"

Remy. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd called Dove by his first name. The number was zero. Because in every real memory he had of him, he'd always called him Dove. It was only a couple of hazy ones that he'd used his first name. But the concept wasn't lost on Dove. He immediately raised his head and looked him over skeptically.

"Sir?"

"I'm going to ask you to do something for me, something different than I've ever asked you to do for me in any life-"

"Sir…"

"This goes beyond just watching and collecting rent and providing a bit of persuasion, Mr. Dove," he insisted before he could ask too many questions. He needed to phrase this very carefully. If Dove said "no," he had no magic here. He could do very little to compel him to help, and he would waste time trying to find someone half as capable as he was. Dove's role in this was critical. "I find myself caught up in a dangerous game with Mayor Regina Mills," he explained, "one where every step needs to be carefully measured. If it fails, the fate of the town is at stake. But, if done correctly, we'll all be free of her. Our chains will be broken. Neither you nor I will be implicated."

"Sir…don't take this the wrong way, but have you hit your head? What you're saying…it doesn't make sense."

"No, it doesn't…but one day it will. Maybe one day soon if you do what I ask."

"What you ask…a job I've never done before, one that I'll be implicated in if you don't do everything 'correctly'?"

"Have you ever known me to do anything incorrectly?" he challenged, ignoring the inconvenient parts of his statement.

"No, but-"

"I've never told you before, Mr. Dove, but I once made a deal with your father.

"My father?"

He nodded. "You see before you were in my service, he was. When he…retired to make way for you, I made a deal with him that I'd never have you do anything compromising or unsafe. I'm still bound to that deal. That means I wouldn't be asking you to do this if it was either, I wouldn't be able to. So now I must ask you again, do you trust me? Do you trust me to lead you through this? To another side where you'll be able to fly?"

"Fly, Sir?"

He smirked. He'd caught that little bit then. "Figure of speech…"

Dove was silent for a second. He stepped away from the counter and shuffled his feet, putting his hands on his hips as he thought it through. He didn't say anything, just let him process what he'd stated before he finally looked back up at him with a resigned look. It was a look that told him he was well aware that he wasn't going to like what he was about to say, but he was ready to hear it.

"What exactly do you need me to do, Sir."

"I need you to kidnap Kathryn Nolan."

To his credit, he didn't flinch. He didn't run out the door or even really blanch. The only indication that he had any reservations about the crime was the way his Adam's Apple bobbed when he swallowed.

"I'm listening," he acknowledged finally. So he went on. He handed him a set of keys to a property he owned several blocks away. It was a simple home, two bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms, ranch style, but a bit run down. The best part about it was the basement. It was large, with a lock on the door he'd added himself and soundproofing the "previous owners" had left behind. He gave him the address and warned him to destroy the paper and use a car from one of his cousins to create reasonable doubt. He needed her taken in the next couple of days and he needed to do it at night so that no one saw.

Dove took a deep breath and fingered the paper with the address on it nervously. "Is she going to die?"

"No."

"Get hurt?"

"No," he assured him. He had plans for her, and if things went the way he wanted them to go, then he was going to need her alive. "You'll be there keeping her comfortable."

"Comfortable?"

"While she's there, you're to provide her with food, snacks, water, books, puzzles, everything she asks for except for her freedom. And, as you do this, you must be sure you never let her see your face. This might take some time. You should be prepared to move there for a bit, and no one should see you so be sure the kitchen is well stocked in the middle of the night. Call me directly if you have any problems or needs. Don't tell even your cousins what you've been hired to do."

"What about Emma? If I'm doing this, then who'll be watching her?"

"I'll hire one of your cousins to keep their distance. Emma's not the threat at the moment."

"The Mayor is…"

He took a deep breath. He trusted Dove with certain information, but he'd learned decades, centuries ago even, that he could never trust anyone entirely. Dove needed reassurance and information could provide some of that, but safety could also provide that.

"I can't tell you anymore than I already have. You won't be safe if I do. You're just going to have to trust me."

Dove glanced back at the address in his hands. His cheek flexed like he might have been biting the inside of his mouth. And then he curled his fingers into a fist, crushing the paper and dropping it on the case as he pocketed the keys to the house.

"I'm gonna need some overtime for this job," he stated, a challenge in his voice.

He smirked. He should get to know Jefferson…

"You'll be paid appropriately before and after."

"I'll do it."

"Wonderful. Then there's only one more thing to discuss…which cousin's do you trust the most?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this next section of season one that we're about to venture into, it's convoluted. It's crazy and confusing and so full of chess moves I didn't have the proper understanding of it all until I got halfway through it and had to come back and do some rewrites. Going into this section, I sort of assumed Rumple was just one of the players, that Regina and Sidney were probably just as guilty in this, that Rumple was working with them until it didn't suit him, and then he added his own flair to the entire thing. But the more and more I went on, I began to discover that it wouldn't work. What is about to happen here is complicated and complex. And what I discovered was that if Rumple doesn't have complete and total control over everything, then there is no way it would ever work out in his favor. Therefore, he's going to need control, and if he's not the Dark One with Magic, he's got to get that control from somewhere. I told you in the beginning that I created Dove and his cousins knowing a time was coming when he was going to need all hands on deck. We're there. In order to pull off these next few episodes and make sure nothing is left to chance, he's really got to turn himself into the godfather.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter. I'm so happy you liked the 1x12 chapters. I'm looking forward to reading your thoughts and opinions as we go forward. If the above paragraph isn't warning enough, this section wasn't exactly what I expected it would look like in the beginning, but ultimately...I like how it turned out. I don't particularly care for this storyline or its timeline, but I like the interactions and seeing Rumple at his best. I hope that you will too! And I sort of like how Rumple is treating Dove here, going ahead and giving him details to the outcome of his plan, knowing full well Dove won't understand them until he's done. There are a lot of small moments like those in this section that make it worth it. Peace and Happy Reading!


	33. Nice To Be Back

Going to Regina's office felt premature. That was natural. Without magic and the gift of the Seer, it wasn't possible for it to truly feel like it was the "right" time. But, he'd already set plans in motion. Admittedly not as many as he would have liked to have, but it had already been twenty-four hours since Regina had learned his secret. He didn't want to go much longer lest Regina come up with her own plan and potentially spoil his own. It was better to think of this as just a portion of his plan that he was about to set in motion. It was better to get started now…he had the biggest players recruited and most of the requirements for his plan under control, he'd get the rest in place after he had Regina in line.

He closed the shop around lunch time and walked the short distance to the Town Hall. When he arrived, Regina's back was to him so that she didn't seem to notice that he'd entered. She appeared to be meditating on something; something small that was held in her hand. He couldn't quite make it out from where he stood, but he could see a personal looking box on her desk was open. It looked like one that she'd kept on her vanity in the Queen's Chamber…how had he never noticed that it was here before? How had he never noticed, even as Mr. Gold, that something like that made it onto her desk, while not a single picture of her son graced it.

He had to do a better job at keeping his eyes open, especially now that he was going to start running this circus of a plan.

"Remembrance of things past?" he questioned, finally alerting the former Queen to his presence.

Immediately she straightened her back and squared her shoulders. She put whatever it was she'd been playing with away in her box and turned to look at him, blocking it with her body as if he hadn't already seen what she'd been doing. As for what the item was…it appeared to be a ring of some kind. Something of Cora's perhaps?

"What do you want?"

"I need a favor."

"You need a favor from me?" she questioned. Was that disbelief in her tone? Or bitterness that he'd gotten to her point faster than she had?

"Well, as you know, there are battery charges against me…pending. I really don't relish the thought of spending any more time locked up in a cage. Now, someone with your influence can make the D.A. suddenly realize what a flimsy case they have. Isn't that right…Your Majesty?" he questioned walking over to her table and taking one of her apples. It could be a handy prop in all of this.

"What do I get out of it?"

He smiled. That was perfect. Just perfect. She wanted something from him, but she hadn't had time to think through what exactly it was that she wanted yet which meant convincing her of his "plan" was going to be all too easy. She'd made a classic mistake. She'd set the trap, and then she'd ensnared herself. Wonderful.

"Help, with your Mary Margaret problem," he explained meandering back her way. She'd gone to stand behind her desk now instead of in front of it. She stood in her place of power. It was a nice attempt. "You see, I've noticed that no matter how hard you seem to try to stop them, she and her 'charming' friend just keep finding ways to be together."

"What are you suggesting?" Now she was sitting. She was still in her place of power, but it was only an illusion of it. She wasn't in charge of this, he was. But she didn't want him to know that. And he was happy to play the idiot if it meant all this worked out just right.

"If you want to inflict pain…" he muttered, setting the apple before her and lowering himself down into his own seat, "then you must inflict pain. If something tragic were to happen to David's wife, and if Mary Margaret should take the blame-"

"She'd be ruined," she whispered, discovering it for herself. That was good. Let her think she had a hand in this. Let her think there was nothing to fear before she realized the danger she was in. He'd played this game with Regina before, he could play it again.

"And you'd have your victory, at last."

"A trial could be very messy…"

"A trial? Who said anything about a trial?" he scoffed, letting her think that he was considering something like that when what he needed was something far simpler. If he acted like he had it all clearly thought out already she might grow suspicious that he did and that was the last thing he wanted. "Now, once Miss Blanchard has been incarcerated, you can plant one of your lovely skeleton keys in her cell. And, once she tries to leave Storybrooke, well…we all know what happens to people who attempt to leave town."

It was a perfect plan. Mary Margaret had made herself a perfect victim for a frame job. The mistress of the miracle coma patient, sneaking around behind the good wife's back. Wife goes missing, naturally Mary Margaret would be the first suspect. She didn't have it in her of course to do this sort of thing, not Mary Margaret. Snow White? Perhaps. But Mary Margaret lacked the confidence and bravery of her former self. Which was what would make what came next inevitable.

Regina's skeleton keys were a part of the plan he was taking a bet that she still possessed. They'd once belonged to Regina's mother and, unlike his own keys, which were actual legal copies of the homes in Storybrooke that he owned, hers had the ability to get her damn near anywhere she wanted to go. Those keys were valuable, and magical in their own right. He was hedging his bets that she wouldn't have let them go when they came here. Hell, he'd be willing to bet that was probably what had gotten His Disgraced Royal Majesty into his home, a "borrowed" skeleton key. He was placing a lot of bets these days. But, fortunately for him, while Regina wasn't coming right out and saying she still possessed them, she also wasn't flinching in regret or denying she had them. So there it was, confirmation of a certain sort that Regina did still have some magic stashed away in this land. It was good to know, but he'd concern himself with it at a later time. For now, he turned his attention to the plan he was about to weave.

If the Evil Queen left one in Snow White's cell, she'd break free and try to clear her name. If Regina left one in Snow White's cell…the girl would run. She'd try to get away from her problems. She'd head right for the town line and if she wasn't stopped…then the Curse would stop her. Missing. Dead. Injured. They couldn't leave. The Curse would take care of them, at least that's what Regina would be banking on. He, however, was hoping that it wouldn't get that far. Not that he had any intention of sharing that with Regina.

Suddenly Regina leaned forward in her seat. "Give me one good reason why I should trust you."

"Because I always honor my agreements," he pointed out, rising to his feet and tossing her the apple he'd picked. He had to be careful about this part. On the one hand he didn't have magic and it didn't exist in this world which meant that short of a legal document there was nothing that she could say or do that could hold him to his word. But the great contradiction was that this was a town made of magic, and he intended one day to bring magic, real, useable magic, to this world. He had to make sure that whatever deal he made he could honor not only legally but magically. Her skeptical look made him nervous. Right now, as it stood, it was a deal he could honor while also working for himself on the side. If she wanted to change it, that might be a problem.

"Do we have a deal?" he questioned as she stared.

Deal. That word put a hungry look in her eyes. She was practically salivating. She thought he was back in business, ready and willing to help him once again. That was precisely what he needed her to think.

"What do we do with Kathryn?" she asked.

He smirked. "Is that a hint of concern I hear, your majesty?" That question was only half a taunt. He knew that Regina had been seen with her around town after David woke up. The pair could be quite chatty. It had been a long time since Regina had a friend, he couldn't help but wonder if the Curse had made her forget that nothing here was truly real. But the stare she gave him at his mention told him what he needed to know. For him the question was half taunt half curiosity. For her, the answer was half curiosity, half concern. All the better. Half concern meant she'd ask fewer questions to ease her guilt.

"I'll handle her," he assured her.

Regina snorted at his final answer as if it was funny. "Have you forgotten? Kathryn is a young healthy woman. You're an old man with a limp and no magic in this realm. She'll take one look at you and run. You aren't exactly up to that challenge here."

He shrugged. "I have my ways. I have my people in this world just as I did in the last."

"You'll get one of them to do it? They won't ask questions. They won't want answers?"

"Questions and answers are not part of our usual arrangements; taking orders and given fair compensations, traditionally are. Though of course if any of them were to be implicated…"

"If you can do this, then I'll handle it," she replied smartly before rising to her feet. "But I expect this to be done, just as you say! Mary Margaret will go to jail for murder, hardly justice for the murder she originally caused but it still has a nice touch of irony to it, doesn't it."

"Indeed it does," he smiled, because that was the way he'd planned it. "So that's what you want? Mary Margaret to go to jail."

"I want that little Princess to get everything she has coming to her."

He fought back a growing grin. It was an alteration to the deal but one that he could live with. No matter what they thought Daniel's death was Cora's fault not Snow's, not Mary Margaret's, not Regina's. That meant that "getting what she deserved" left room for interpretation. It allowed him to walk a line, albeit a very thin tightrope of a line…but he'd had greater challenges in his life.

"Just so we're clear, I'll do this for you, ensure Snow White 'gets what she deserves', and you'll get Spencer to drop the charges, our debt will be satisfied. Are we in agreement?"

Regina's eyes sparkled with something like eager anticipation as she grinned wickedly. "Deal…it's nice to have you back, Rumple."

His grin grew as he ignored an inner urge to let loose a laugh at the joke she couldn't understand. "It's nice to be back."

Oh, so nice to be back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, we're still in 1x13 but this scene was seen later. However, when we see that scene it makes it clear that it is a flashback and it fits in right here. Good news, it's nice to have a flashback that is so respectful about telling you when it takes place, after wading through all the Enchanted Forest stuff that was very welcomed. Bad news, they had to add a temporal statement to that clause and limit my time in this storyline to one week. Really A&E...it all takes place over the course of a year but these next five episodes are only over a week? Honest to goodness...
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you, RolfB, for your very kind comments. I loved knowing you enjoyed the last chapter, even if it wasn't terribly detailed. I know that 1x13 is not super interesting right now, but it's going to get there. In fact, there is a surprise twist ending for you in the next chapter and I can't wait to give it to you. So, if you are ready, let's move onto the next chapter! Peace and Happy Reading!


	34. Criminal Organizations

It was a perfect plan. A brilliant plan. But it was a double-frame job, and that made it a complex plan. He had to make it look like Mary Margaret was behind Kathryn Nolan's disappearance, on the surface, at least. But when it came right down to it, he had to make it something deeper. He intended to make Regina look like she was responsible for framing Mary Margaret. It was complex on the whole, but when he sat down to think it through it, piece by piece, it at least seemed much simpler. But still, expensive.

There was work to be done with this, work he couldn't be seen doing, work he couldn't actually do physically because he might be too slow, or it might arouse suspicions. So, he hired Dove's cousins, damn near all of Dove's cousins. It felt like every last one of them had a job to do or was reporting to him. Marc was already watching David. He'd put Stan on watching Emma Swan while Dove assisted him with Kathryn. He finally broke down and tasked another cousin to watch Mary Margaret and one to keep an eye on Regina from a distance and another for Sidney Glass, first because he wasn't going to make the mistake of underestimating him again and second because he had plans for him later. Hell, he'd even gotten Dove to put his old friend Will Scarlet on the payroll. He'd asked him to stick to his job at Granny's as a new dishwasher a little more reliably for a while. Everything happened at Granny's; he wanted eyes and ears there too. If any of them suspected what they were participating in, they didn't question it. It was expensive, but it would be worth it if he could pull this off with the desired results.

He employed two more to go to Regina Mill's residence, where he told them to retrieve a shovel. They'd returned with one that was large and bulky, probably not the right choice for a woman, but he'd work with what he had. When they returned, he sent them to Mary Margaret's apartment with a skeleton key he'd gotten "on loan" from Regina earlier in the day and a hunting knife he'd had in the back of his shop collecting dust since the beginning of the Curse. It was likely one of Graham's, from the other world, but he'd never claim it now. And because he'd already seen to any evidence it had ever been in his shop, no one would ever trace it to him either. "Use this to get into Mary Margaret's apartment," he explained, handing the key over, "and be sure to hide this," he wrapped the knife in a cloth and gave it over as well, "somewhere in the apartment that is neither too obvious nor too difficult to find. Remember to wear gloves and don't make a mess of things. Oh, and while you're there, I need you to steal something, preferably a box, preferably something old or stashed away in a closet that the girl isn't likely to notice it gone for a while. And on your way back, I need you to go see Sheri Lewis, the butcher..."

A few hours later, they'd done their job. Extremely well, if he had to say so himself. They'd returned from Mary Margaret's with an old jewelry box they claimed they found in the back of her closet buried under some clothes as if for safekeeping. And from Sheri Lewis, former warlord turned butcher, they returned with a sheep's heart. He fetched another hunting knife from his back room and made sure to cut just below all the places Lewis had cut the heart himself. It wouldn't be an exact match, but at least it was two hunting knives that appeared to make the cuts instead of a clean butcher's knife. Then, after cleaning the blade, he placed the heart inside the jewelry box himself then returned to the front of the store and the men who were waiting. He handed one of them the shovel along with the small piece of the shovel he'd broken off himself while they'd been at Mary Margaret's.

"Bury this-" he motioned to the metal fragment, "under this-" he handed him the box as well, "using this-" he explained, handing them the now broken shovel. "Bury it under the old toll bridge." The place that Marc had told him David would meet Mary Margaret when they were seeing each other. "Were seeing," past tense, since his spies reported they were on the outs since the affair went public. "When you are done with that shovel, kindly return it to Regina's home to the place you found it. And please, both of you, remember not to muddy the future crime scene with your fingerprints or other potential evidence," he muttered, glancing down at their shoes. "You only get paid if the right people are implicated."

Breaking and entering, murder weapon hidden, soon enough Kathryn would be secure and missing...but it still wouldn't be enough. He would need DNA. He was a lawyer; he knew that would be the clincher to doing this right. But he had plans for that to be fixed at a higher level. Dove had a cousin who worked in the hospital. When Dove went to pick up Kathryn, he was under orders to get some of her blood and leave it in the mailbox when he arrived at the safe house. Once everyone of his players were asleep, he'd send another cousin to pick it up and take it to the cousin who worked in the hospital and now for him. That cousin would make sure results matched when the time came. In the meantime, he resisted the urge to take notes on who was doing what or start making name tags for all Dove's cousins. It might help him keep things straight, but as of right now, none of this could be tied to him, and if he made a list like that...

"Is it done?" he questioned when he received a call from Dove just past one in the morning a couple of nights after he'd had his conversation with Regina. He was utterly exhausted already. He'd wanted everything done and set by the time this call arrived. He usually was in bed strictly by nine, ten at the latest, but he'd waited up just to hear from Dove that one of the last pieces had fallen into place.

"Yeah, just finished getting her in and settled…if you call banging against a soundproof door settled."

"Did she give you any trouble?"

"No. The car stopped just like you thought. How did you know that would happen?"

"I have my ways, Mr. Dove. Everything else went as planned?"

"Yeah, I blindfolded her, convinced her I had a gun, and got her into the car, then waited until after dark to get her into the house. Blood's in the mailbox. She actually cut herself before I grabbed her, so no harm, no foul there. She's in the basement now. I left her some books and cards to keep her entertained; hopefully, she'll notice when she calms down a bit. Why do you have a house like this?"

"The former tenant wanted to start a band and make a recording studio. When he failed to pay rent, I saw the benefit in keeping what he'd done. Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Dove, check-in and call me if you need something. I'll see your needs are met."

Getting Kathryn, like the rest of the plan, was easy enough. In talking to Regina, he'd learned that Kathryn had confessed to her weeks ago that she'd applied to law school in Boston. Boston…David's affair with Mary Margaret wasn't a strong relationship, nor was his relationship with Kathryn. A little pressure and everything was sure to begin to crack. And with just the right pressure, then Kathryn would get herself to the perfect place to disappear for a while…the town line. Either she'd get there alone, and he could go through with his plan. Or David would go with her, and Mary Margaret would be devastated. One way, and he'd be happy, another and Regina would be. It was a careful bet. But it had paid off. The affair became public knowledge yesterday. Will Scarlet had reported that to Dove, who had let him know that the relationship seemed to be over. Tonight, he wasn't surprised that Kathryn had gone alone. Or attempted to, at least.

He was exhausted, sorely in need of a good night's sleep after all of this, but he wasn't done yet. This weekend was Miner's Day, a town holiday, and the morning after Dove took Kathryn, as the town prepared for a weekend of festivities, he realized that he had one more visit to pay. Regina was taken care of, and Mary Margaret was taken care of…now he had to handle the third person in this trio…Emma Swan.

Yes, he wanted Regina to think he was working for her, and yes, he wanted to let her think she was close to getting everything she'd ever wanted…again. But then he needed Emma to take it all away. Emma was the key; the wild card he needed to be sure was tamed. After what he'd done, in a normal police precinct, Mary Margaret would go to jail for life, without question, because there would be no reason for the police to look deeper into it. But in Storybrooke, Emma Swan was the sheriff, and even if Regina had forgotten who the enemy was, he suspected that Emma would not. With everything pointing to her good friend Mary Margaret she'd investigate, she'd leave no stone unturned. She'd be determined to look deeper and prove it wasn't her. What would she find? Regina. Not Mary Margaret, but Regina. He was paying good money for that.

But it wasn't enough. He needed to be certain that along with Regina's guilt and Mary Margaret's innocence, she discovered something else. Motive. It was time. All his visions in the Enchanted Forest had always been clear. Emma needed to face off Regina. If it wouldn't happen naturally, then he'd kill two birds with one stone and orchestrate the damn thing himself. In the midst of all this, he needed Emma to ask questions, and he needed her to think. Why would the Mayor of Storybrooke hate a simple schoolteacher so much that she was willing to frame her? Why would she murder someone just to put Mary Margaret in jail? Why would she care so much?

Those were difficult questions that required a difficult answer, but the time had come to give her something to believe in that went beyond what she could see. And how would he do that? Well…there was one step in his plan that he was most worried about, one step that he didn't want to leave up to fate. Mary Margaret running away. He had a plan for that, but unfortunately, he needed someone to help him, and he was fresh out of cronies. Fortunately, he knew someone he might be able to convince, someone who used to work for him, someone who hadn't wanted to see him again but wouldn't remember that in this world.

"Mr. Jefferson," he smiled when his old associate answered the door. He stepped forward to offer his hand in a friendly shake. "I don't believe we've met, I'm-"

"Rumpelstiltskin…what took you so long?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! True story, Jefferson's appearance in this fiction was a bit of a surprise to even me! When I wrote the last chapter between Rumple and Jefferson in TDOC: The Dark Curse, I legit thought that was the last time Rumple and Jefferson were ever going to have anything to say or do with one another. And then I started working my way through season one. And I realized exactly how much control was required over the situation, and as I said before, I realized that Rumple couldn't leave anything to chance. If I followed that same logic, then that meant that there was no chance Jefferson wasn't part of his plot. We had to end up here. And so here we are, on the brink of a Rumple and Jefferson reunion, even if Rumple didn't know it until the end.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments. Considering the end of this chapter, I am super excited to hear what everyone has to say about this! I am sorry that this chapter is short. Originally it was meant to be attached to the next chapter, but then that one got far too long, and the pair needed to be separated. Here was good enough. But hey, I tried to give you some good things in this chapter; Rumple as a mob boss, an explanation for why Scarlett had the keys to Granny's, and Rumple wanting to make nametags for everyone. Fun fact, I added that in for my benefit because there were so many I had to keep coming back to check who was doing what, and I'm almost positive I mess up somewhere in a future chapter. But now it's not a problem because it's established even Rumple knows there are too many of them. Whew! Got that off my chest. Up next we've got what I believe to be (truly, this time) the last in-person Jefferson and Rumple chapter for Chronicles. So, if you're ready, let's move forward. Peace and Happy Reading!


	35. Two Old Friends

"Rumpelstiltskin…what took you so long?"

He felt his stomach drop as he pulled his hand back and stared into the eyes of his former associate, seeing a recognition there he hadn't seen in decades. It had been years since he'd heard his own name spoken out loud. But now, it was as if everyone was saying it. First, Regina, now Jefferson. It struck him like a hand across his face.

"You have your memories…"

"Yeah, it's a curse. Literally," he huffed.

Jefferson crossed his arms over his chest almost casually; meanwhile, he still felt as though he couldn't breathe. Jefferson knew! He had his memories! Why hadn't he known Jefferson would know? Why hadn't ever found it odd that he was the only one who had an unchanged name, aside from David, of course. He was an idiot. He should have realized the second he saw the town records that Jefferson-

"What do you want?" he spat out quietly before looking around as if to see if anyone else saw he was there.

His shock faded as he pondered that question for a moment, bringing himself back into the present moment. What did he want from Jefferson? Nothing he wanted to discuss out in the open, no matter how secluded his mansion was.

"May I…?" he motioned to the rest of the home, quietly requesting entrance.

Jefferson hesitated. It covered up the hesitation in his own mind. He hadn't been planning on finding a Jefferson with memories intact. That changed things. He would need a new argument if he wished to leave here with Jefferson agreeing to help him.

Finally, Jefferson stood aside. Once in the residence, he led him through the halls and into a kitchen that he could only describe as "modern." How odd...Storybrooke, buildings and houses alike, had the feeling of a town where time had stopped. Nothing was updated, nothing was new, and if the few television programs he'd watched over the years told him anything, it was that most, if not all of the town would not fit into the world beyond the town line. But Jefferson's home...it was different. It smelled like fresh paint, new tiles, white or bland colored walls with a splash of color here and there. It was all straight lines and right angles like it had been professionally designed and decorated by an interior decorator. It was as if time moved forward in this house, but in this house only. It was a surreal feeling.

"Still a tea drinker?" Jefferson asked him as he tried to disguise his dis-ease in the house.

"Yes," he lied, looking around as he got to work in the kitchen. He didn't drink tea, not much these days anyway. Like so many in this world, he'd made the switch to coffee, and now tea reminded him of unpleasant memories that made his chest burn. It reminded him of someone. He turned back to Jefferson, who stood over the stove before he could think too much of it. Belle couldn't help him now. "I need a favor."

"Sorry, you are fresh out of 'favors,'" Jefferson muttered, not even bothering to look up at him as he worked. "If you'll recall, you traded them all away when I went to fetch Cruella De Ville from London."

"And then I saved your daughter's life."

Finally, he looked up at him. "You didn't do that because I owed you a favor," he argued. His eyes were hard and wearied, so far from the curious and carefree boy he'd once encountered. He was the opposite of that boy now, and all at once, his mind got over the shock of meeting him again, memories intact, and instead filled with questions. Where had he been? Why did he have his memories? Why was Grace living with a family across town instead of with him?

"When I saved your daughter, we made a deal, we-"

"Hadn't yet struck that deal before Belle begged you to help, and you couldn't resist being the hero in front of her. I never signed a contract, never gave verbal agreement, not even a physical agreement such as a shake of the hand or a nod of the head. You forget how much you taught me, Rumpelstiltskin."

He was right. And it left him speechless.

It was blow after blow after blow with him, it seemed. His old accomplice had grown teeth since he'd last seen him. He knew where to strike and strike hard he had. Because it wasn't the lack of formal deal that had him practically on his knees now, but the mention of Belle, he hadn't been prepared for hearing his name spoken aloud after all these years, hearing Belle's name…it made his chest squeeze dangerously tight. It hurt. Jefferson had spent all of one night in the castle with him and Belle, but he was smart and observant. He'd almost forgotten how he'd picked up on something between them even before they had. Or maybe just before he'd wanted to. So far, he deeply regretted coming to Jefferson. His old associate was far from a friend. Right now, he was aiming for pain, aiming for shock and awe. And he was succeeding.

"There's that look," Jefferson muttered as the kettle began to whistle.

"What look?"

"The look of a cursed man who can't have what he wants."

He swallowed as he turned to fetch some teacups. No. He couldn't have what he wanted. He wanted his child, and he wanted Belle. One of those things was gone forever, never coming back. And how foolish was he to still want her after all these years, to still feel her loss as though it was an open wound that should have closed years ago? Fucking True Love…

"Belle is dead," he stated as emotionlessly as possible, for Jefferson's benefit as well as his own.

Jefferson's head snapped up in shock from where he poured the tea. A moment of quiet, of total stillness as the words, the truth of it settled over them both. And then the surprise passed, Jefferson blinked and swallowed as time moved forward, and he looked back down at his task, focusing too much on making sure the tea got into the cups.

"You don't say…"

"Yes."

He wanted him to suffer? He wanted him to feel what he'd felt, fine. He could play that game. He could play that game because Belle was dead, but Baelfire was still out there. He still had a chance at getting half of what he wanted. Now that he was here and saw the situation, he knew it wasn't ideal, but he could still work with it, maybe even more than before. He just had to be willing to suffer a bit with the Realm Jumper. Camaraderie. Wasn't that what he'd wanted when they were in the Enchanted Forest, and his wife had died?

"You were right all those years ago. I loved her," he admitted as Jefferson brought him a cup with a smell that reminded him of her. "If I could see her again, take it all back…I'd do things differently, but I'm not here for me. I'm here for you."

"You've intrigued me," he stated, taking a seat by the window. "I'm not saying I'm willing to work with you, but I am curious."

"You always were…" he muttered to himself, glancing at the other seat. "Very well." He took the seat opposite him and set his cup down, desperate to get the smell away from him. He needed to get a grip. Jefferson had thrown him off balance. He needed to take it back. He had to make a deal. He could focus on that. "You know the look of a cursed man because you see it every morning when you look into the mirror, don't you. Your daughter, Grace…she goes by Paige these days, doesn't she? In the care of a Mr. and Mrs. Grace…ironic, isn't it?"

"What do you want, Rumpelstiltskin?" he snapped, finally sitting forward and setting his own tea down. He wasn't the only one who knew how to touch a nerve.

"I find myself in need of assistance. I had hoped to ask a cursed version of my former associate, but this kind of cursed version works just as well."

"I don't work for you anymore," he stated clearly with bitterness in his voice. "And I've been stuck here for twenty-eight years, long enough to know that you're the boss of your own little mob. They do your dirty work just fine. Go ask one of them."

"None of them are in the situation you are. And…they're busy, at least the ones that I trust for this kind of job."

Jefferson slanted his head and stared at him through a careful and curious gaze. "What game are you playing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he smiled, happy he'd finally asked a question that might help them both. "I'm trying to break the Curse. That's why I can work with you better this way than in a cursed state. Because in this way I can offer you what I know you want…your daughter."

His remark came in loud and clear even though Jefferson suddenly shot out of his seat and turned away from him, a hand scrubbing over his face. He knew he'd heard him because it was that very concept of getting what he wanted that had elicited the reaction. They knew each other too well, he and Jefferson. He'd always put up a cocky front in the Enchanted Forest, pretending not to give a shit about the fact that he had a daughter. But he'd been proud of him. He'd been disappointed he didn't want to work for him anymore. But as a father, he'd known that he'd made the right choices, taken responsibility, loved his child. Love was a weakness. And it was what was going to get him through this plan. The promise of tomorrow…

"The Curse breaks, your daughter remembers who you are…she comes home. It's a win for everyone involved except perhaps, Regina."

"Why?" he choked out, his back still to him, grappling with the offer he'd made.

"Because she's the one who-"

"No…why are you doing this?" he asked, rounding on him. "I'm not exactly the most brilliant man, especially not after twenty-eight years of stewing in a cursed town without any concept of time, but I'm smart enough to put two and two together! This Curse…this is what you had me searching for all those years ago, this was what you were training Regina for, this is what you wanted! So why the hell do you want to break it now!"

"Buyer's remorse."

"No…you're too smart for that!" he pointed out with a chuckled. "You knew what you were getting yourself into. And I've been watching from the shadows long enough to know that you haven't always had your memories, which means you figured out a way to wake yourself up early. You wanted this. Why would you suddenly unwant it?"

They knew each other well, too well perhaps, which was why he had no intention of telling him "why." Not even after all these years. He hadn't even wanted to tell Belle. The secret of his son would stay with him. Except…they knew each other too well…

"There's something here, isn't there?" Jefferson presumed, lowering himself back into his seat again. "The first time we met, you asked if I could bring you here, and I said I couldn't. This is how you did it. This is how far you were willing to go to get to this realm! There is something here worth cursing an entire land for! What is here that you needed to reach? What could you possibly want in a land without magic?!"

"You can ask all you like, dearie…but I'm not going to tell you that," he responded as calmly as possible. Shared history, it could be a bitch. "All I will tell you is that you and I are more alike than you know. We're both alone in a world searching for someone to love, someone to love us."

"You think that's here?"

"I know it is."

"What, you know…you know Belle is alive? You think this is the only way to get to her."

"Belle is dead. My happiness lies elsewhere…" he stated, rising out of the seat himself. He cast his gaze out over the view Jefferson had in Storybrooke. Ironic. It was ironic, just like everything about this curse. Once, he was a man who valued riches and freedom. Now he had probably one of the most comfortable homes in Storybrooke, a high income. He wanted for nothing…save his daughter. He was trapped in a world of meaningless riches. Just like he was. But out there, beyond the borders of Storybrooke, there was hope. His son was out there. He just had to see this through. He had to get to him. Belle would want that.

" _If_ I agree to help you, and that's a pretty big 'if' from where I'm standing, by the way…what would you need me to do?"

He felt no victory in hearing the question. There was only relief.

"Kathryn Nolan-"

"David's 'wife'?" He turned back to glance at his former associate and raised his eyebrows. How did he know that? Jefferson shrugged at the silent communication. "I took a hint from you; I watch everything. I've had to do something these last twenty-eight years. "

"Yes…" he muttered, suddenly noticing the telescopes and the windows in the home as he hadn't before. He probably would have been better at spying than Dove had been, though that was irrelevant now. He had to focus. "Kathryn Nolan went missing last night."

Jefferson snorted. "Tragic, not that you seem torn up about it. I'm going to guess it was Theseus son?"

"Let's just say I know she's in a safe place with someone I trust."

"Of course you do. So…what's this got to do with me?"

"Mary Margaret-"

"The Former Snow White." He nodded and stalked back to retake his seat.

"She'll be charged with her murder soon."

"That could be problematic for the two love birds."

"It could be, but she's not the concern."

"So who is?"

"Her daughter. The Savior," he sighed as he let his cane tap against the floor. "Emma Swan is the Savior. She's the daughter of Prince Charming and Snow White, the product of True Love. The magic she carries with her is unique. She has the power to break the Curse. That's why the clock began to move again the night she decided to stay here. She has power. She just doesn't believe it."

"Her son-"

"Henry tells her all of this…but we both know that adults aren't always likely to believe what their children say. She needs to hear it from someone else."

"And you want that to be me," he assumed correctly.

He nodded. "Mary Margaret will be charged with murder. She'll escape. She'll run. And because Emma loves her, whether she knows of the relationship or not, she will come after her to prevent making the situation worse. I need you to intercept Mary Margaret. I need you to get Emma here, somewhere the Queen can't reach. I need you to make her start asking the right questions, convince her she's special, help her see that Henry's stories might be more than stories."

"Why else would a Mayor want to frame an elementary schoolteacher," Jefferson mumbled, proving he understood the situation in just a few short sentences better than anyone else. "And then I get my Grace back…"

And there was the downside to this plan. He was a patient man, but he'd never known Jefferson to be someone willing to sit on the bench and wait for something to happen. He needed Emma to start believing so the Curse could break. But after this plan, it could be a day until the Curse broke; it could be another year. Jefferson wasn't going to be happy.

"This is a delicate process-"

"No."

"It's a long game-"

"No."

"We have to play-"

"NO!" hits hand against the table between them. "No…I'm done playing long games. I'm done with watching my daughter like a stalker through a telescope lens! I want her back! I want my Grace back the way she was! I want you to fix her like you fixed yourself. Wake her up!"

"I don't have that kind of power here!" he shouted back. "Not yet! But if you do this-"

"Why should I?" he screamed, getting on his feet again. "Why should I do this for you?"

"Have I ever led you astray?" he asked calmly. "Have I ever lied to you?"

"You weren't there when I needed you," he answered back through gritted teeth. "Why should I be here when you need me?"

This old argument. He knew what he was referring to. He was talking about when his wife died. He'd kept expecting him to come in and visit, and then what? They could grab a beer? Weep together over the death of Whatshername? He had feelings for Jefferson, a host of them that he couldn't sort out. As the Dark One, he hadn't seen any benefit to Jefferson's marriage or child, only the fact that they took him away from where he needed him. But as Rumpelstiltskin, as a father and a former husband…he respected the man more than anyone, and that included Mr. Gold. He'd felt for him. He'd spent nights regretting not going to his aid, remembering that this was about getting Baelfire back, not making friends with the help. The Dark One had been upset when Jefferson left because talent was wasted. Rumpelstiltskin had been upset because he'd grown fond of him and considered him something of a son. The fact that they'd come to this…he was torn.

"They call me mad…did you know?" Jefferson finally asked. "Do you know why they call me that? Why my daughter isn't with me? Do you know where I was before the Curse hit? Wonderland. I was trapped there. The Evil Queen hired me to retrieve something from that realm for her. I left Grace with some neighbors, and the pair of us went to retrieve it because I had no money, and she promised to make it worth my while. She didn't tell me that what she wanted me to retrieve was another person, her own damn father!

"The same number of people that go into Wonderland have to come out. Did I ever tell you that? One of the quirks of the land. Regina tricked me. She got her father back, but I…I was left behind. I was a sacrifice to her! And Grace, my Grace…I couldn't get back to her! My hat was gone. I spent…I don't know how much time it was trying to construct another one, trying to find the same power my grandfather had! I spent years waiting for you to come and help me out of there! To use the portal I'd given you to help me! But you never came!

"It felt like forever all that time I spent trying to get back to my daughter! And then the cloud of magic swept over the land, and now here she is! She's right in front of me. But she doesn't even know her own name! And you know who helped you do that?! You know who helped you create this Curse, the Curse that gave Regina that power to keep us apart?!

"It was me! I helped you do it! This is all partly my fault because I listened to you! So why should I do it again? Why should I listen to you? So far, you've been the worst mistake I've ever made."

"Because you'll tear the world apart to get your child back," he answered softly, trying to dislodge the rock that had formed in his throat. Those were hefty accusations he'd just thrown at him. And they were true. All of them. Every last one. It didn't matter that in the months before Regina cast the Curse, he'd been held a prisoner and couldn't save Jefferson. He knew that information would be lost on him, irrelevant. He had to get him to look to the future, not the past. And it all started with something he could do in the present.

"Emma breaks the Curse, I bring magic back…you get your daughter," he explained easily. "Everyone can be reunited with their loved ones, not just you. But this is a crucial piece. And it may take me a while to deliver on my promise, to return the favor, but I've never promised you something and not delivered. This is just how it's done."

Jefferson leaned back against his kitchen counter. He folded his arms over his chest and looked down at his feet, crossed at the ankles. He thought he might have heard him sniff. Finally, he raised his eyes and looked at him. "I'll do it…" he answered. "I'll do it to get my daughter back because Grace needs me. And then I never want to see you again, Rumpelstiltskin."

"Is that a formal request?" he asked, trying to find some bit of humor to dispel some of the tension, though he couldn't figure out what that mattered to him. It wasn't a formal request. It was just…it was the end. He'd said things like that to him before, but there was a finality in it this time. It felt like a deal was being made. They'd finally arrived at their last deal.

"Can't be…then I'd owe you two favors," Jefferson answered.

"We'll stick with just the one then." He smiled despite the seriousness of it as he recalled the Seer's words. _He'll return the favor._ Yes. Even if it wasn't formal, something in the magic around them understood a deal was being made. He just didn't know what that final favor would be. He'd have to be surprised. But he found he was remarkably okay with that, for once in his life. "I need to get back to the shop," he muttered quietly, getting to his own feet and leaving his tea untouched. "Things to do, people to see-"

"Plots to hatch…" he finished for him in a sad sort of way. "Why did you do this? Are you really never going to tell me?"

Never…never was a bet he wasn't comfortable making, not with Jefferson, not when he lived forever. But it did seem unfair in a way. After all the work he'd done for him, after what he was about to do.

"Because once I lost someone that I love. And to get them back again…I too would tear the world apart."

"Is that why you went after King Maurice? Moe French?" Jefferson corrected quickly, grabbing hold of the only loss he knew about. He wasn't wrong, not entirely. But he wasn't right either. Not entirely. "I heard what you did to him."

"That was just a man finally receiving his just rewards for his daughter's death."

"Wait, you…you think her father killed her?"

"There is more than one way to be responsible for a person's death, Jefferson. I'll see myself out."

"What if she wasn't?!" Jefferson cried out before he'd taken less than three steps. "Dead, I mean. What if you could get her back? I mean…I assume you want magic for something."

His chest hurt again. One breath. Then another. He had to stay steady and focused. "Magic can't bring the dead back. I thought you would have learned that from me."

"Hypothetically, then."

"I stand by everything I've said. And more. For those I love, I'd tear the world apart with no regrets. I'll see you're compensated for your troubles, Mr. Jefferson."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard chapter to write because it's sort of a painful reunion for Rumple and Jefferson. But I'm not going to lie, writing this chapter was also lots of fun. This was one of my favorite relationships to write about in the Enchanted Forest, but I always knew in the beginning that it was destined to go downhill. This conversation is sort of the end of that process. Yeah, there is teasing and familiarity between them, but this conversation is also violent in its own way. But there are a few little gems here. There is an acknowledgment from Rumple, finally, that Jefferson meant something to him. Jefferson finally is able to tell him where he was before the Curse. And I know it's cruel but I also loved the fact that throughout this conversation Jefferson obviously knows that Belle is alive. Not only does he refer to her in the present tense but he also flat out says "you know she's alive" (not *think*) and Rumple just never seems to catch on to it. As the reader we know there is more to what he's saying and doing, but out of context Rumple doesn't. Rumple thinks his surprise at his statement that Belle is dead is just because she's dead. We know it's because he knows she's not. His questioning that Rumple *thinks* Moe killed Belle isn't because it's a crazy theory. He's just shocked that Rumple doesn't know what really happened. And of course the beauty of the statement "you know she's alive?" He's not saying it because it's a theory. He's guessing just how much Rumple knows or doesn't know. So, yeah, hard chapter to write. But also really fun!
> 
> Thank you, RolfB and Futuresunshine02, for your comments on the previous chapters. I'm super nervous about this one; I spent a lot of time editing and tweaking it and making sure it was just right. But I finally got it to a point where I'm ready to give it to the world and just see what happens! I really hope you enjoy this surprise Jefferson chapter. I think it's one of my favorites in this, even if it is hard to read at certain points. Peace and Happy Reading!


	36. Just Rewards

Outside of Jefferson's home, he breathed in the fresh air and let it clear his head. Their conversation had been a lot more intense than he'd planned for, it was a lot more than he'd prepared for, but it was done. This part, at least. The real fun was only about to begin, he wasn't finished with his plotting and planning, but he'd planned out about as far as he could for now, at least without the Seer's help. It was time to sit back and watch. It was time to wait to see where the chips would land and then put out fires and point others in the right direction as was necessary. It was tedious work, it was going to be expensive to keep all his little birds in line, but he'd manage it. If not for Belle, then for Baelfire.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to be by himself. Miner's Day was tomorrow that meant there would be a celebration that would start tonight. There would be people all over town setting up this time of day, which usually meant he was busy ignoring it. After all that, he wanted to go back to his shop, lock the door, and spend the rest of the evening holding his chipped cup in his hands, dreaming about the possibility that magic could bring someone back from the dead. No one would miss him. He wanted to do that. But on the drive back to his shop, his phone rang, and he got a call from none other than Leroy.

At home, Leroy was more commonly known as Grumpy. He was one of Snow's seven little dwarf friends, probably her favorite and the bravest of them all. But here, Leroy was the town drunk. In the last twenty-eight years, he'd acted as his lawyer several times after he'd done something stupid. He nearly swore when he saw the number. He didn't have time for this right now. And that was what he intended to tell Leroy when he told him about the latest trouble he'd gotten into. But to his surprise, Leroy didn't need him for his legal abilities but rather for his Pawnbroker abilities. He had a boat that he wanted to sell for some reason, probably to pay off some gambling debt or other. He was tempted, once again, to say "no" and go back to his shop as he'd planned. But he was the town pawnbroker, among other things, apparently. The town was still cursed, and so he was still two people. He had to be both Rumpelstiltskin and Mr. Gold. And while Rumpelstiltskin would have been happy to roll his eyes and tell him to fuck off, Mr. Gold would have gone to make the sale. So he used his turn signal, made the appropriate turn toward the bay, then told Leroy he'd meet him at the dock in a few minutes.

The second he arrived and saw Leroy standing there looking the "boat" over, he regretted this decision. It was a piece of shit.

"This is what passes for a boat these days?" he muttered as he came to stand beside Leroy.

"I bought it as an investment."

"And never actually invested in it, I see."

"Never had the time," he shrugged.

Or the sobriety, he suspected.

"Now, I know it's a bit of a fixer-upper, could probably use a new coat of paint, a few spritzes of Febreze here and there, but you can't tell me that five thousand's not a reasonable price for this beauty."

He resisted the urge to laugh, the businessman in him wouldn't allow it, but it was always funny when people did this. Five thousand was a reasonable cost for it, even if it was a piece of trash. But five thousand was market value. Even if he sold the thing tomorrow, as it was, there was no money to be made off of it, and considering he suddenly had a fair number of employees to be paid under the table, he couldn't look at not making money off of it. By the time he painted it, hired someone to fix it up a bit, and waited for the Curse to break so he could find a buyer, he'd be in the hole if he paid five thousand. Buy low, sell high, the pawnbroker's mantra.

"Three thousand, I think," he corrected.

"I need five," Leroy pressed, turning to look at him.

"You need five?" he questioned. Five…what a precise number. And for what? He'd never paid him anything for all those times he'd come to his aid with Sheriff Graham. "To what do we owe the specificity?"

"Trying to help out a friend."

"Oh, I see," he smirked. He wasn't aware the dwarf had friends in this world; not even his own brothers liked him here. And he wasn't a bank, not exactly anyway. And what friend on earth could he have made that would make him want to get his hands on that kind of money?

"Look, you don't even have to pay me anything. Just forgive one month's rent for the nuns."

"The nuns?" he questioned. What was Leroy doing selling off something for the nuns? Had he found religion?

"You can have the boat. They'll pay you back eventually. It's a good deal. You get everything."

"So, that's what this is about," he smiled. He wasn't sure what had provoked it, but he understood it.

"Come on," Leroy urged. "You're a rich guy. You can afford to give them time to make up one month's, right?"

"You're right. I could."

"So, great."

"But I won't," he corrected, watching Leroy's face fall.

Dove told him last month that the Fairy Bugs impersonating nuns had just barely got their rent in. He suspected that they wouldn't make it this month at all. Given his history with them, he was okay with that. They'd always had money problems, they always sold candles at Miner's Day to get as much as they possibly could for the year, and they'd always made it because the Curse had been working to keep them in place. Now that the Curse was weakening, that assurance was gone. It was a part of the Curse breaking he was all too eager to watch!

"I have a fairly specific rental agreement. If they miss a payment, I'm within my rights to evict."

"Oh, come on. Why don't you-"

"And," he interrupted before Leroy could say anything more, "quite honestly, it's going to be a great relief to be rid of such distasteful tenants."

"You don't like nuns? Who doesn't like nuns?"

Because they were arrogant little bitches who thought they were better than everyone else just because they had Light Magic on their side. And they'd slapped a ruler across Mr. Gold's knuckles far too much growing up, false memory or not, one did not forget the sting of that.

"Oh, I have my reasons. And they're mine. Let's just say I have a long and complicated history with them, and leave it at that."

He didn't give him any other explanation, just turned and walked away, throwing a brief wave over his shoulder. He smiled as he walked back, happy he'd taken the call and come. The Fairies homeless and begging him for favors. He rather liked the sound of that. In fact, he…

Just then, one of them walked past him, actually smiled in his direction before casting her eyes down, and his stomach felt like it jumped into his throat. He knew her. She was familiar. But…other than the Blue Fairy and Red Fairy, and his mother, of course, he'd never really dealt with any others, at least none that were alive. Why was she so familiar? Why did he know her?

He knew how. It didn't strike him until he got back in his car and watched as she and Leroy interacted, but it came to him. He'd seen her in a vision. Long ago, when Snow had first met Grumpy, he'd had a vision of his past, who the dwarf had been before he'd met the princess. In that past, there had been a fairy, a fairy he'd loved, a fairy he'd bought a stolen diamond for. That was why he'd been in the prison with Snow White in the first place when he'd had the vision.

The fairy was her!

Every happiness he'd just felt melted away as he stared at the two. Their encounter didn't appear to end well, but rather with her walking away as Leroy looked…well…downright grumpy. Suddenly he felt like an idiot. There were all kinds of ways for this Curse to weaken. Revenge, the fairies on the street, that was one way. But love, two lovers reunited as he and Belle never would be, that was another way. It was the far more powerful way.

Watching the Curse break a little more would have put Regina even more on edge. He should have taken the deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit of a bland chapter, nothing you shouldn't have seen coming. in fact, I'll admit, I did consider very briefly pulling it and just summarizing since it's really just filler. Though I would like to state that it's not filler by my choice, but rather A&E. 1x14 was a filler episode. Ultimately they spent time out of their main story to focus on a storyline they never came back to, and that sort of makes this a useless chapter. It exists to get us from point A to B.
> 
> Thank you Rolf B for your comments on the last chapter and for letting me know it was enjoyable. Yay! I do love me some Jefferson. I hope you won't take my negativity to heart. It's not so much that I hate this episode as it was just boring. I don't think I'm alone in that. I vaguely remember seeing this episode on some Top 10 Worst Episode of OUAT years ago. But, of course, I used this episode to bring Jefferson back, so I suppose that it's fair I had to endure the rest of what went with it to do that. My least favorite episode contains one of my favorite chapters, it seems like a just reward indeed! Peace and Happy Reading!


	37. A Normal Routine

He did what he had to do. He stuck to his schedule and the shadows, trying to make it so that no one would ever know that anything had changed in his life. He tried to make it so that no one would notice he was secretly running what was probably the greatest spy circle that Storybrooke had ever seen. It was something to be proud of, but he was old enough that he had no intention of bragging about it. This game was tenuous enough as it was. There was no need to make it worse. So, the day after making his deal with Jefferson, the day of Miner's Day, he did what he always did.

He got up. He took his shower. He made his breakfast. And he went into the shop.

He doubted that anyone noticed.

Miner's Day was always a small uneventful holiday anyway, and with one of the town currently missing, those he encountered seemed nearly as dreary as the weather. No one was in a festive mood. Except perhaps him.

His plan was working. Call after call informed him of that.

The first calls he received were from the cousins he'd set to watch David and Emma. Kathryn's disappearance had gone public and his little bird friends informed him that David had been released for questioning shortly after Emma brought him in. It didn't surprise him. At the moment, Kathryn was missing, but legally she didn't have anything to hold David on. With no body or physical evidence of Kathryn's death, she could have crashed her car and then wandered out of Storybrooke all on her own. Frankly, right now, even if Emma did think she was dead, she didn't have any clues as to who had done it. Sure, it could have been David, or Mary Margaret, or even Regina. But it could also have been Sara Fischer; it could have been Granny. Hell, for all Emma knew at the moment, Kathryn had crashed her car and been kidnapped by a man who could also turn into a bird. For all Emma knew…

Regina knew more than Emma did, even if she didn't necessarily know better. He hadn't spoken to Regina since all this had happened, but he had a pretty clear indication that she was pleased with his work.

The morning after Miner's Day, he got up, got dressed, made himself breakfast, and went to the shop. Shortly after arriving, he received a call from none other than Emma Swan.

"How is it that in the middle of all this the DA is dropping charges against you?" she shrieked into her phone."

"Oh?" he prompted.

"Moe French suddenly claims that you two were up in the woods, talking about the robbery when he slipped. Spencer doesn't believe it, but without Moe's testimony he says he doesn't have enough to charge you, so he's dropping the case."

"Well, that sounds right," he sighed as if he were bored but far from innocent. "It's not unlike what I told you, if you'll recall."

"That's not what I saw."

"What you saw is irrelevant," he dismissed. "If Mr. French is willing to sign a sworn statement, then you can't really be sure what you saw that night. It was rather dark if memory serves."

"Yeah…funny how Moe's truck appears to be back in front of his shop all of a sudden," she snarked.

He smiled. She was fun to debate with. "Almost as funny as my decision to put a five-year extension on his loan. One of life's mysteries, I suppose."

"Yeah…"

"Though I do find it odd that we have a woman missing, and you are taking the time to have this conversation. I rather think you've got more on your hands at the moment than I do."

She hadn't responded kindly to that comment but rather hung the phone up without saying good-bye.

The next person he heard from later that afternoon. It was none other than Dove himself, but he called with news that he hadn't quite expected. He thought he'd update him with news on Kathryn or any problems, but it turned out all was quiet on that front.

"She's upset, but she finally stopped pounding at the door, and so far, no one seems to know we're here."

"Good, keep it that way."

"I've got more you might want to know about."

"I'm all ears."

"Ruby Lucas, Widow Lucas' granddaughter-"

"I know her."

"Right, Will called me just after three. He was just starting his shift when Ruby came in. Apparently, she quit last night. Emma's hired her as some sort of assistant; she was fetching lunch. Just thought you might want to know."

Indeed he did, not just because at the end of the day he was paying the boy to look for handy information like that, but also because it was an unexpected change he hadn't prepared for. Immediately he'd called his man watching after Emma, who confirmed that the girl was in fact staying at the office, but he hadn't figured out yet why she'd been there or what capacity she was working. Frankly, it wasn't until Ruby had left the station, come back with food, and then gotten into the bug with Emma again that he realized she was doing more than just "hanging out," as he'd put it.

He grit his teeth together. The news almost made him miss Dove. He wouldn't have thought to not report it to him. But he was the commander of a tiny army at the moment. Dove was his best, most experienced soldier, he had to put him where he was most useful, and right now, that was with Kathryn. Babysitting her might be the easiest of jobs, but it was the most crucial of the jobs as well. He couldn't risk anyone else taking his post. In the end, he simply told Stan to keep an eye on everything and let him know what was happening.

What was happening…that was the question. It was a question that Stan seemed incapable of answering, not while he kept his distance. He'd followed Emma and Ruby out of town only to watch them stop near the woods; two had gone in, three came out. They'd emerged with David. It was only once they were at the hospital that he'd called to inform him of this. In his own words, David had looked "disoriented." Emma had kept a hand on his back as she led him to the car and helped him into the backseat, the pair had exchanged a glance, and then they'd ended up in the hospital. Emma had taken David in, Ruby left in the car, and not long after Regina had arrived. That was all the information that he had at the time. When he hung up the phone, he sat down at his wheel and started to spin because he could think of no other way to relieve his stress.

This was a delicate operation. These first steps were tedious, and while things were going the way he wanted them to right now, there were unexpected wrenches now thrown into the mix. David, disoriented in the woods, that was one. Regina at the hospital, that was another. Ruby was another. He didn't know what she was doing, didn't know why Emma was using her suddenly. Worst of all, he didn't have any eyes on her. This was the most important step in the process. He couldn't afford any problems or things not done properly. But the only person he could think to send to watch Ruby was the cousin watching Sidney. He didn't want to do that. He had plans for Sidney, or rather he knew that eventually, Regina would have plans for Sidney. He wanted an eye on him, especially if Regina was somewhere that she wasn't supposed to be. He tried to think of a way to get himself into the conversation, a way to insert himself early into the middle of all this, but he came up blank. He had to stay where he was. He had to wait for his opportunity to get involved properly. Besides, even if he did send someone out after her, he had no idea where Ruby had gone. Stan had taken eyes off of her once she left the hospital; she could be anywhere, the police station, Granny's, the woods, anywhere.

So he went home, spun at his wheel as Stan reported Emma's return to the station, and then returned to the hospital before going back to the apartment for the night. He went to bed. He woke up the next morning, got dressed, made himself breakfast, and was just about to go into the shop when his cell phone rang, and he took a call from Dove.

"Hey, just letting you know, I think Mary Margaret is about to be arrested for murder," was his greeting. He quickly pulled out his keys and let himself into the quiet shop before responding.

"What makes you think that?"

"Will Scarlet just called. Ruby is back at Granny's as of this morning. She quit working with Emma yesterday after…she found a heart in the woods yesterday. And Will well…he's got a friend, who has a friend, who worked at the mirror, who knows Sidney Glass and…Will says Emma got the heart's DNA tested and the results are pending, but there were fingerprints on the box that the heart was found in and they're a match for Mary Margaret."

Well, of course, her fingerprints were on it. The box belonged to Mary Margaret. He'd had his goons bury it along with something very special. "No sign of anything else?"

"No." So the shovel shard hadn't been discovered yet. Probably because Emma had sent Ruby and not gone herself, that was one of those problems he hadn't accounted for. But he tried not to panic. Ruby wasn't working the case anymore, Emma was, so there was still hope she'd go out there and review the crime scene.

"And the DNA evidence is still pending?" he confirmed once more, trying to manage exactly how much time he could give Emma before he had to push her in the direction of the crime scene.

"Not back yet, but…I called my cousin, he knows what to do."

He breathed a sigh of relief. If he was to be the mob boss, then Dove was his second in command and doing an excellent job at it. He was the only one of his cousins that actually knew the entire of his plan, or at least what he wanted him to know about it. He was suddenly incredibly grateful for the boy.

"That's good work, Mr. Dove. Very good work. I'm appreciative of the work you are doing on this. It's part of that complicated game I mentioned, and so far, everything is happening as it should…more or less." He meant to hang up, but seeing as how Dove seemed to have contacts that his cousins didn't, he sighed. "Call me when you hear the DNA has been processed."

Not long after that, Mary Margaret was arrested. The call came toward the end of the day. Stan reported soon after Dove's call that Emma had gone into the town to the pet store. Mary Margaret had gone there just after school got out, probably to check on how David was coping with his beloved wife's disappearance. When Emma emerged from the store, Mary Margaret had been cuffed. Emma had taken her back to the apartment, surprisingly, not the jail, but Stan reported quickly that it appeared to be a courtesy. When they both emerged, Mary Margaret was wearing comfortable clothes. Furthermore, after they'd stayed in the station for a while, Regina had stopped by, but then Emma had returned to the apartment. Another call came in after she left. It was Stan again.

"She's going back to the station now. She had a big bag with her when she came out. I think she might have found the knife."

Well, it wasn't DNA or a shovel, but it was evidence against her. It was still early, but he was tired of sitting on his hands, waiting for something to happen. It was time for the Dark One to jump into the fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, filler chapter. I had to do it. If we follow the logic we've been using, that Rumple is in control of the situation, then there is a lot that has to happen with him behind the scenes. We might not have seen much of him in these early episodes, but he's busy. 
> 
> Thank you, RolfB and MasterReaper90, for your comments on the last chapter. I'm glad you were able to see the irony in it. I hope you'll find some enjoyment in this one, even if it is filler. In an ideal situation, I would have attached something like this to another chapter, but, as I said, a lot is going on, and it's just too long. Better it be a filler chapter than something to drag down a better chapter. Peace and Happy Reading!


	38. Legal Counsel

Their deal was half done. Regina had gotten the charges against him dropped, and now he had to make sure that Mary Margaret "got what she deserved"-freedom. He was looking forward to that, to Regina's realization that she'd lost to him yet again. But he knew there was a long way to go before that happened. In order for everything else to work perfectly, then it had to be a long way away. In truth, he needed everything to appear like it was going in Regina's favor until he took it all away. He wanted all this to end with an angry Regina and an angry Emma staring each other dead in the eyes, daring the other to move first. That was what was going to get this Curse broken; that had been his plan all along. Right now, Regina was distracted by Mary Margaret, but when all was said and done, she'd turn her attention back to Emma. If this was the way he needed to do it in order to get that result, then so be it.

As far as the investigation went, he'd done his part, it was Regina's turn to play dirty now. She had to leave the skeleton key in the cell for Mary Margaret to find. And when all this fell apart, well…that was what Glass was for. Regina wouldn't let herself take the fall, she'd look for someone else to do it and the most willing person he saw would be Sidney Glass. There was still time for all that to happen, still a long while until he needed to have a talk with Sidney to make sure he was primed and ready to have that talk with Regina and "take one for the team" in order to save her ass. But first, he had to switch teams. Quietly for now, but he could get a little louder about it soon enough. Outside the police station he parked his car and took a deep breath. Trying to keep his head straight in all of this was like constantly trying to untangle a knot by making new ones. But he'd get there. He just had to play this out, day by day, one step at a time, one play before another. With that in mind, he focused on the purpose of his current visit, turned the car off, and went inside.

Once inside the station, he heard the two women talking in very different, very suggestive tones.

"The heating vent? Emma, I don't even know where the heating vent in my bedroom is!" Mary Margaret cried frantically. She was stressed, perhaps even loosing her grip on reality a bit. Perfect.

"Well, someone did, and they put a hunting knife in there," Emma explained, her tone was different; tender and delicate. She was trying to figure it out. The use of the word "someone" suggested she was suspicious, just as planned. That was good. She just didn't want to force the issue because of the state of her friend. Understandable. "I checked for signs of a break-in, but there weren't any."

He smiled. His employees had done well then, used the borrowed key and gotten in and out clean. It was good to know he was getting precisely what he was paying for. Once Mary Margaret discovered the skeleton key in her cell, Emma would put two and two together. She'd make an assumption, one that was incorrect, but ideal for the situation.

"You don't believe me," Mary Margaret cried.

"Of course I do," Emma exclaimed. "But what I think doesn't matter. The evidence is piling up by the hour."

"Okay, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying, you should think about hiring a lawyer."

What a perfect opportunity for an entrance. He didn't need magic, sometimes the situation called perfectly for a magical appearance.

"An excellent idea," he stated finally rounding the corner and revealing his presence.

"Mr. Gold," he heard Mary Margaret breath before casting her gaze away and wringing her hands together. She looked embarrassed and guilty. It was an understandable reaction, though probably not quite for the reason that she assumed. He was a lawyer who had just caught the Sheriff talking to a suspect about a case…alone. As the Dark One he was pleased things were working out as he wanted. As Mr. Gold, attorney, he knew it was a stupid thing for his client to be doing. Not that it mattered, she'd be out of there faster than she knew.

"What are you doing here?" Emma demanded with much less tact than her mother.

"Offering my legal services."

"You're a lawyer?" she blanched.

"Ever wondered why I was so adept at contracts?" He smiled, after all this time she hadn't figured that out yet? Emma was an excellent Sheriff, her detective skills left something to be desired though. "I've been following the details of your case, Miss Blanchard," he explained turning his attention back to his would-be client. "And I think you'd be well-advised to bring me on as your counsel."

"And why is that?" she asked.

"Well, because the Sheriff had me arrested for nearly beating a man to death, and I managed to persuade the judge to drop the charges," he lied. The call they'd shared the other day made it sound like she clearly thought that he'd done some bribing to make the charges drop. From where he stood there was no need to let Emma on to his deal with Regina. At least not yet.

"Asserting your influence isn't what's needed here. We need to find the truth."

"Exerting influence may be exactly what's needed here," he argued.

"What's needed here, is for me to do my job," she fought back.

"Well, no one's stopping you. I'm only here to help."

"Enough," Mary Margaret pipped up in a voice that was less than influential but enough to quiet them both. "Please go…" she breathed.

"You heard her," Emma snapped at him but she clearly hadn't seen what he had. Mary Margaret hadn't looked at him when she'd made her order, she'd looked at Emma.

"No, I was talking to you," she corrected quickly.

The girl whipped her head back, looking shocked to hear the pronouncement. He couldn't blame her for that given their relationship. It would have been so easy to pull her aside and explain that in this situation he really was on their side, but it wouldn't help. He had to play carefully. That meant maintaining an air of mistrust. He had to let Emma be skeptical about him. He had to let Mary Margaret do the convincing.

"Oh, Emma, he's right. I need help," she explained. "And you need to do your job, or else I'm screwed. So, just please…do your job the best you can, and you'll prove me innocent. Until you do, I need some practical help."

She ended with a sweet smile typical of the schoolteacher but Emma didn't see it. She cast her gaze down looking like a hurt dog.

"Trust me," he explained stepping closer. "This is in Miss Blanchard's best interests."

He'd said the words, but he didn't exactly expect her to believe them. Fortunately for him, whether she believed them or not, she was legally bound to listen to them.

"Good luck, Mary Margaret," she nodded, stepping closer to him and looking into his eyes. He sensed a threat coming on and smiled at her as he prepared to take it. "I hope your best interests are what he's looking out for."

Yes, certainly a threat of some kind. But he held his smile as she walked away. It was a shame there was already so much bad blood between the Savior and himself. He really did appreciate her spunk.

"I can't pay you," Mary Margaret whispered when they were finally alone.

"I didn't ask for money," he pointed out.

"Then why are you doing this?" she asked.

Ah. Emma's veiled threat had gotten to her after all. Right now, his interest was in finding his son and in order to do that he needed Mary Margaret, so yes, for now this was in her best interest. She'd pay her back, in a way.

"Let's just say," he paused and let the corners of his mouth lift as he remembered saying the exact words to her so long ago in another life. "I'm invested in your future."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick scene, short chapter. But it gets the job done. Any questions?
> 
> Thank you, RolfB and Ingers123, for your comments on the last chapter. I know a lot of this is all really confusing when you get right down to it, but I'm happy to hear that it's tracking for you. Storywise, it works from an outside observer's perspective, but once you really dig in deep, there is a lot about this Rumple is controlling, right down to Sidney Glass. Fun fact, the talk he has with Sidney is actually another one of my favorite chapters in this fiction, but we've got a bit to go before we can get to that conversation. So let's move on to the next chapter, and we'll keep trucking along! Peace and Happy Reading!


	39. Doing the Job

He and Mary Margaret talked for well over an hour. This part of the game wasn't difficult; it was simply a balancing act. On the one hand, he wanted to leave Mary Margaret spooked, not terrified, just sufficiently spooked. Enough so that when she got her hands on the skeleton key, then she'd run. On the other hand, he had to be her lawyer and didn't want to appear as if he was trying to scare her. A balancing act like this might be difficult for some, but in this case, it was easy enough for him to accomplish, mostly because all he had to do was tell her the truth.

"Your chances are good because there is no body at the moment," he reassured her. "They can't assume she's dead. They have to know for sure. All they really have is your jewelry box with your fingerprints on it, which can be easily explained. The box belongs to you. It would be odd if it didn't have your fingerprints on it."

"But what about the heart? Emma said they're running DNA."

"Don't worry about that right now."

"Right now, but what…what if it comes back as Kathryn's?"

Which it would…

"Well, if it comes back as Kathyrn's, then that would be bad," he stated clearly. "That would be very bad indeed. Something like that might implicate you."

"But I didn't do anything!" she hissed as her face fell.

"You don't have to tell me, Miss Blanchard. In fact, I'd prefer it if you didn't. But…if you truly didn't do it, then you should have nothing to worry about. For all we know, some kids broke into the apartment, stole the box, and it's a sheep's heart in there. Could just be some kids playing a prank, and that's the argument I intend to make if this goes to trial."

"Trial!"

"It likely won't get that far. We'll worry about arraignment first; that'll be tomorrow morning unless further evidence against you is brought to light."

"What's that involve?"

"You'll be brought before a judge, the formal charges against you will be read, you'll plead 'not guilty,' bail will be set."

"Bail…I can get out of here."

"Well…in a murder trial, they'd send you to prison because you would be considered a danger, but seeing as how they don't have a body yet…"

"A body…everything hinges on a body, on that heart."

He sighed. "Try to be calm, Miss. Blanchard. It doesn't do to worry about things that may or may not come to pass."

"And what if they do come to pass?"

He resisted the urge to smile again. He didn't want to look like he was trying to spook her, and fortunately for him, she did a fair enough job of giving him a reason to all on her own.

"As I said before, that would be bad. It would implicate you. But we're not going to worry about that for now. One foot in front of the other. You get some rest. Let me do my job."

Immediately following their conversation, he invited himself into the Sheriff's office. "So…how bad is it?" he asked.

Emma glared at him skeptically, her mouth unmoving as she considered his question. She'd done her job well; she'd let the pair of them talk in private as the law required. She'd tried to keep herself busy or otherwise secluded in her office, but he could feel the way she'd watched them. He hadn't ordered her to stop, nor had he told Mary Margaret to stop talking to her as he would a normal client. For someone on trial for murder, talking to the district attorney or the police could potentially be harmful. But Emma just wanted her friend free again. She believed in her innocence. There was nothing wrong with talking to Emma. As for anyone else, Emma was protective enough that she wouldn't let it happen. So that just left the pair of them, two unexpected allies involved in a very complex plan.

"Miss Swan…if this goes to trial, I'll be given everything during discovery," he insisted, reassuring her that talking to him, though it would commonly be considered inappropriate, was exactly what she needed to do in this case. "Besides, sharing information at this stage can only help her. I'm her lawyer, I want her out of jail, and I suspect so do you, Miss Swan, so let's help each other…shall we?"

He saw her gaze adjust over his shoulder to the cell Mary Margaret currently sat in before she sighed. "Heart's still out for DNA testing. It should be back tonight or tomorrow morning. Ruby found it in the woods by the toll bridge, the place she used to meet David. It was in her jewelry box, and her fingerprints were all over it. The heart had marks on it that suggested it was cut with a knife of some kind. I found a knife wrapped in cloth in the heating vent in her room."

"I'll assume you did a thorough search of the area and found any other clues. Has the apartment shown any signs of a break-in?"

"No, it was the first thing I checked. It was clean."

"Who else has access?"

"I have a key, she has a key, no one else."

He raised his eyebrows in interest. "You're sure?"

"I asked," she answered back emotionlessly. That was how the entire conversation had gone thus far. Emma didn't like him. She'd exchange facts, but she wasn't ready for theories yet…at least he assumed that she wasn't.

"Is there anyone in town who has the ability to get into the apartment, anyone who can pick a lock?"

"Normally, I'd be looking at you for something like this," she insisted. "But all things considered-"

"All things considered, I have no reason to want this. No motive," he finished for her. "And if I did this, then it would seem a bit counterproductive to try and get her out of the trouble I put her in."

"Right…"

"So then, the next question you must ask yourself is who does have a motive. Who would want to see an elementary school teacher put in prison for a murder she didn't commit?"

Emma sighed. "At the moment, the only person who would have that motive is Kathryn herself."

"A crime of passion…revenge."

"But seeing as how she's missing and Mary Margaret is here…"

"Well…" he smirked. "You do have your work cut out for you, it seems. I'll expect updates as you get them. It can only help your friend."

"That's what they all say."

"This time, it's true."

He spent the night in his shop. He couldn't bring himself to go home for more than an hour in the morning to bathe and change clothes. Everything that was happening was happening in town. And he wanted to be as close as possible for what was to come next.

That morning was supposed to be Mary Margaret's arraignment. He'd told her that it would happen yesterday unless new charges were brought against her. Last night, there had been new charges. Regina called him in the middle of the night. The glee that she felt was clear in her voice as she told him that the DNA results were a match for Kathryn. She was appreciative, thankful even, for his help in the plan. According to her, she'd left the skeleton key, as he'd instructed in Mary Margaret's cell. It was only a matter of time until she found it and ran. He'd smiled at her foolishness but was smart enough to let her hear it in his tone when he told her that it appeared she was about to get what she wanted. And so it was…it _appeared_ Regina was about to win, which was sure to make her defeat that much sweeter.

Emma was informed of the charges that morning, Mary Margaret's arraignment was postponed until the following morning. Emma was taking on the task of informing his client, and so he hung back at the shop for the day, doing this and that, small tasks to keep himself busy. Polishing was always his go-to chore, even if it made him sad now that he had his memories back. He wished Belle could see him doing such work. His shop was always in disarray, but he knew that she'd be impressed she could pick up a cloth and do some form of polishing. He wondered if he'd like this version of him…Mr. Gold. If she were alive and got to work at the library, he wondered what their interactions would have been like.

It was a nice thought to have. It was a nice vacation for his head to take instead of thinking about everything he was plotting and planning now. It was crazy trying to pull this off without magic. Times like last night, he felt like it was getting to him. It was frustrating and terrifying. Worst of all, he felt like a coward for admitting it.

He heard the bell chime out in the main room, letting him know someone had wandered in. A moment later, he heard a familiar voice call out, "Mr. Gold? You in here?!"

He rolled his eyes at Emma Swan's footsteps and didn't bother to call out to her. Not only was it undignified to shout, but she didn't seem to have a problem going where she wanted to. She'd find him with or without invitation.

"Mr. Gold," Emma stated as he heard the curtain whip back.

"Just taking inventory," he explained, picking up…it was the genie lamp again that had found its way into his hands, making him shudder all over again. How was it Emma Swan always seemed to find him when he had it in his hands? He took a seat at the table he'd been polishing on, but he wasn't going to be so stupid as to not learn from his mistakes. He wouldn't polish it, not this time, perhaps just appearing as though he was appraising it until she left would work.

"What can I do for you, Miss Swan? Any developments in the case I should be aware of?"

"Yes," the girl breathed frantically. Was that a hint of frustration in her voice? "Regina set her up."

Excellent. "And this surprises you?" he questioned, trying to be careful not to smile or reveal any shock on his face at all. He didn't want to discourage her from going down this road. He wanted to encourage her. "Show me your evidence, and we'll get this over with immediately."

"Yeah, that's the thing," she breathed heavily, leaning against the desk herself. He knew that look, that haunted frustrated gaze. It was a woman who knew the truth but felt powerless. Good. That was motivation. "There isn't any. Anything that's court-worthy. But I know it now."

He smiled. So now she trusted him. Whether or not that trust was well placed for the future, it wasn't just a good thing but a necessary thing in this situation.

"Look who's suddenly become a woman of faith. Why are you here, Miss Swan? To spin conspiracy theories?"

"I need help."

He chuckled appropriately. "From me?"

"Every time I've gone up against Regina, I've lost. Except for once…when I became Sheriff, when you helped."

"As I recall, you don't exactly approve of my methods."

"I approve of your results. And this time, I have something more important than a job. I need to save my friend."

Excellent. Magic or not, he had her right where he wanted her, right where he needed her. This was almost as good as he knew it would feel on the day he finally had her standing before him, ready to kill a dragon for a potion. Almost, but not quite. They still had work to do before they were there yet. The question was how much work. "And you're willing to go as far as it takes?"

"Farther."

"Now we're talking," he smiled. Not much farther at all then. "Fear not, Miss Swan," he breathed, picking up a magnifying glass to examine the lamp closer for no reason at all. "Regina may be powerful, but something tells me you're more powerful than you know."

"Well, I'm open to suggestions for how to exercise that power because right now, everything seems pretty bleak. So…what do we do."

He sighed. "Now…now you do your job, and I'll do mine. Her arraignment will be tomorrow morning before the judge. Either one of us will find something useful, or…both of us will. Care to wish on it?" He offered the genie lamp to her on a whim, but as soon as he'd offered, he realized the danger of what he'd done.

Fortunately, Emma glanced down at the lamp with irritation as if she was upset that was all he had to offer and then turned to leave.

"Have you talked to Sidney lately?" he called out before she could make it through the curtain.

She stopped and turned back to him. "Sidney? Sidney Glass?"

"Well…he used to be Regina's right-hand man, an investigative journalist. It seems to me that if she were to trust anyone, it might be him. The pair of you parted on good terms, if I recall. Might not hurt to have a few allies."

Emma paused for a second as if to consider that fact. Then she let out a sigh and left his shop, not in aggression but determination. He smiled as he got up to put the lamp away and out of reach. He hadn't wished on anything, but if he had, it would have been for what had just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter combines two events that were not long enough to make their own chapters, so I just put the pair of them together, and I think it sort of works. It's mostly a Rumple and Emma chapter. We get so few of those. And I'm rather proud of myself for this one. In general, when I can't remember where the "seen" stuff ends and my stuff starts, then I usually feel as though I've done a pretty good job with the interaction.
> 
> Thank you so very, very much, RolfB, for commenting on the last chapter! I'm thrilled you are enjoying this behind-the-scenes look at some of the details that go into this section! As we continue through the murder section of all this, I hope you'll continue to enjoy these chapters because they will be over before you know it! Peace and Happy Reading!


	40. Risky Business

Finally, it happened. He knew about it before Emma did. That night, the night before her rescheduled arraignment, just after the sun had set, he received a call from the cousin watching Mary Margaret at the jail. He hadn't really heard from him, which was to be expected, all things considered. The poor bird had been sitting outside the jail for days, watching nothing happen. But finally, there was movement, and it was clear from his voice he was almost excited about it as he was. Mary Margaret had just left the station.

"I'm watching her right now. She just glanced out the front door, looked left and right, and then did a speed walk away, kept her head down the entire time. Has she been released? Do I call Emma?"

"No," he insisted with a smile. "No, I'll handle that. Follow her to the best of your abilities. If anything strange happens…let me know."

"Strange, Mr. Gold?"

"Strange."

He glanced at the clock. Still early in the evening, but Emma would no doubt have gone home for the day at this point. He could call her now, he supposed he could also call Jefferson, but he wanted absolutely no tie back to himself after this was over. He'd told Jefferson to be on the lookout; he had to trust that he was. This was going to be the risky part of this plot. This was the part that would require trust, something that he didn't do well, to begin with, but when it came to Jefferson…

There was a time he'd trusted Jefferson. To be perfectly frank, Jefferson had never done anything to make him lose that trust. He'd disappointed him, he'd turned his back on him, but he'd never betrayed him.

He wouldn't call Jefferson, he had to let him do what he did best, and all things considered, the less he knew about what was happening on his end, the better. But there was one thing that he had to set in motion. It was dark when Jeffry called him back to let him know he'd lost Mary Margaret. He'd followed her as far as the woods and then lost sight of her there. He ordered him to go home, take the night off, and be back at the jail by morning. He was optimistic that Mary Margaret would be there by then. Immediately, he turned and placed a call to Emma.

"Yes, I'd like to speak with Mary Margaret before her arraignment tomorrow; go over just a few last-minute details. Could you meet me at the station?"

She'd agreed quickly, and so as the sun set, he found himself waiting in his car when she pulled up in her own yellow bug. The two approached the front door, and that was first when Emma paused and looked at it. He could see what she saw. It wasn't a lot, but he could see the door sticking out, just by half an inch or so, something it wouldn't be able to do if the door was locked. He bit back a smile and instead put on his most innocent look. It didn't matter to him that she couldn't see him. He had a precise role to play.

"Something wrong, Miss Swan?" he questioned as she stared at the door. She didn't reply, just reached out for the door and gave it a small tug revealing what he already knew. "Do you always keep the station unlocked when there's a prisoner inside?"

"No…" she drawled, then flung the door open and stormed inside. He smirked before taking a breath and following her inside. He glanced at the door—a simple lock on the inside that could be unlocked simply by rotating a tumbler. No doubt Mary Margaret had done it herself on her way out.

"Henry! What are you doing here?" he heard Emma exclaim. His amusement dissipated into shock. Henry was here? He hadn't noticed that before, but sure enough, he looked up at Emma with a smile on his face all while he felt panic rise within him. Why was he here? He wasn't part of this plan. How well could he keep a secret from Regina? He wasn't ready for Regina to know yet!

"I came to congratulate you," she heard the boy state.

"For what?"

"Your genius plan."

He smiled at him over Emma's shoulder. "And what plan's that, Henry?"

But the boy was suddenly mute. His smile fell off his face, and he looked down at the book in his hands. He didn't think much of it. If he knew who he was, really was, then it was smart of him not to talk, especially given who he thought he might be. And, if he didn't want to talk, that was okay. He had other things he could be doing, like checking on the status, or lack thereof, of his client.

"Right," he muttered, moving around the boy to leave them alone. He hadn't planned on Henry, but there was still a job to be done, something in place. He had to take a risk that Henry wouldn't tell Regina too early, that his admission of a great plan meant he was on their side. He had to move this forward. So he rounded the corner and sighed in relief at the sight that greeted him. It was just as he had been told. There was her cell, bed made, nice and pristine, and there was the door, wide open, Mary Margaret nowhere in sight. Beautiful. "Sheriff, could you join me, please?" he called out in a concerned voice as he stared at the cell. Footsteps behind him told him both mother and son had arrived, and he made sure his face revealed only the proper amount of irritation and panic.

"She's gone," he stated.

"Henry, what did you do?!" Emma cried, moving around him to look at the cell.

"Nothing!" the boy shrieked. "She was gone when I got here."

"Her arraignment's tomorrow," he reminded Emma perfectly. "If she's not there…"

"She's a fugitive. Doesn't matter if she's convicted for Kathryn or not; she's screwed!" the Savior exclaimed, turning and taking off for her office. "I have to go find her before someone notices she's missing."

Someone…

"Oh, you mean Regina?"

"The arraignment's at eight A.M. I'm sure she'll be here bright and early to celebrate her victory," she properly assessed.

"Well, you have until eight A.M., then."

"Uh, what about me? How can I help?" Henry cried.

"Go home!"

"Emma…" but then Henry got close to her, whispered something to her that he couldn't quite hear, to which she quickly responded, "Not now, Henry. Come on." She placed her arm around the boy as if to usher him out, probably to drive him home before going out to search now that it was past dark.

"Miss Swan," he called out before she could get much further. She paused and turned to him, anxiety in her eyes. "I know time is of the essence, but if Miss Blanchard doesn't return…her future's in jeopardy. And if you're caught helping her, so is yours."

"I don't care," she breathed. "I'd rather lose my job than my friend."

He smiled once she was out of the office and looked back at the empty cell. Henry's unexpected entrance aside, this was going better than he'd hoped. The town thought Mary Margaret was guilty. Emma thought Regina was guilty. No one really knew that he had kidnaped Kathryn or that he was holding her captive for the right day. And now…Emma.

First, a confession she'd do what it took to make things right now a confession of undying loyalty toward a paragon of good no matter her own self-interest. All because she wanted to do what was right. Emma Swan was shaping out to be one hell of a Savior. He couldn't wait to see what she'd be like once she got some magic into her blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, I know. I feel like many of these chapters came out short because they have to be here, but there's really not enough to them to add to it. In fact, there's hardly anything to frame in this chapter! But I hope that it gives the proper hints that will lead us into the next chapter, which is far more interesting. It's short too, but we get to see Rumple really start to play both sides, managing his deal with Regina on top of his loyalty to his son and, therefore, Emma and Mary Margaret. He does get himself into some sticky situations, doesn't he.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter. He's awfully busy during these times, isn't he? It was fun diving into all that in these fictions. Peace and Happy Reading!


	41. Perfect Plans

He spent the night at the shop again. He would say that it was becoming a very bad habit, only this time there was no sleeping involved, and he was certain that meant there was no "habit" forming. Oh, he'd tried. At least half a dozen times, he'd grown weary enough to lay down on his cot and closed his eyes only to have his own curiosity and anxiety keep him awake. He spent his time trying to sleep, sitting on the edge of the cot, bouncing his cane up and down nervously, and taking time at his wheel to spin when he realized there would be no sleeping.

He hated this part. There was a lot about this process he disliked but this, leaving Jefferson to his own devices while his doves all took the afternoon off…this was like torture. He hated not having eyes, and he hated not having ears. At one point in the night, out of desperation, he'd retrieved his black bag and taken a look inside. He hadn't gone through the potions inside this bag since David had awakened him early. He'd gotten lucky then. He'd needed a potion that was strong enough to overcome the effects of the Curse weighing it down but weak enough that the Curse wouldn't want to absorb whatever magic it produced. He'd looked through all the potions he had, analyzed each of them. There was nothing that would work in this situation. To watch what was going on, he'd need his crystal ball, and he hadn't seen it since he'd left the Dark Castle. He hadn't any idea where it was in this world. He could use a mirror, but he didn't have the proper spells or options for that, and even if he did, he was certain the magic was too strong to make it work. The Curse would swallow whatever magic it generated up to help itself. He was trying to break the Curse, not provide more power for it. It could backfire too easily.

So he spun. And he paced. And he lay down. Then got up and paced some more. Today faded into Tomorrow. Late night became early morning. He received no calls. No messages. Nothing from any of his birds, not even the one watching Emma. Was that because he'd lost her and was too scared to tell him? Had Emma left town and her spy had followed and was now lying in a ditch somewhere? Was Jefferson just that good?

Finally!

He lunged for the phone on the table when it finally chimed. He uncharacteristically tripped over his own wheel and stubbed his toe but didn't think to care as he examined the unfamiliar number. Not Emma Swan, not Regina, not one of his employees, so then who-"

"It's done," Jefferson's voice spat before he could even utter a single word. He sighed in relief. Done. Jefferson had done his job. Now he just had to do his own. "Our deal?"

"Will be honored," he answered. "You'll not see my face at your door again."

"And my daughter?"

He tilted his head. A second request. A second favor. Jefferson had made damn sure the last time they'd talked that he hadn't wanted a second deal and yet…what was it the Seer always said. He'll do you a favor? He couldn't imagine what that favor might be, couldn't think of how he'd ever accomplish it without him being able to see him but…

If the Seer had said it, repeated it as she did over and over, then there was something to it. Who was he to resist?

"I'm working on it," he answered honestly. It was just as he'd said before. This was a long game, and it was going to take time. But he could do it. He could. He had to.

"Get it done," his old accomplice ordered. "I'm not going to wait forever, and the things I know about you, Mr. Gold…they could turn stomachs," he threatened before hanging up.

A threat. He didn't like threats. But considering the amount of curiosity he had regarding this issue and the amount of work he had to do to break the Curse, he was willing to let it slide. For now.

Like clockwork, almost as soon as he hung up with Jefferson, he received a message from the person watching after Emma. He reported that she'd spent the night at a strange house and was now leaving with Mary Margaret. They were going in the direction of the Sheriff's Station. Well…that answered one question. Why hadn't Emma's tail contacted him? Because it hadn't appeared that anything was wrong. Emma had left the station, she'd run into a man, she'd taken him home, and hadn't emerged until this morning. She'd gone into his house on her own, and she'd come out on her own. The only strange thing to him had been that she'd returned with Mary Margaret.

He beat the women back to the Sheriff's Station. He would have let himself in with his keys, but he knew that before she'd left, Emma had left the door open. He took a seat on the couch by the cell, the same seat Regina had used when she spoke to him. And then he waited. And waited. It was almost as bad as when he'd been in his shop. Almost. This time he knew all was well, that the women were well on their way, but he was getting tired of waiting. He was getting tired of being patient.

Finally, he heard the door open, and footsteps came down the hall. Mary Margaret appeared, and soon after, so did Emma. It was just after seven. Her arraignment was at eight. They'd need to leave soon, and he did not doubt that Regina would be here to see her off. He didn't want Regina to walk into this.

"Miss Swan-"

"Don't ask!" Emma snapped as Mary Margaret returned to her cell, and Emma locked her in again.

"Here!" Mary Margaret ran to her cot and pulled out a piece of metal. He had a feeling he knew what it was as she passed it to Emma.

The Sheriff looked it over. "Looks like one of Regina's skeleton keys."

"I'm sorry?" he questioned with false shock. In reality, he was pleased to hear her make the connection. It was exactly what he wanted her to conclude.

"Evidence to use against Regina. We'll worry about it later. Mary Margaret is back now. You can talk to her about what you wanted to now."

"Actually…I recommend we all leave."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, except for Miss Blanchard, of course. The best thing you can do is rest before your arraignment."

"We have…thirty minutes until we have to leave again!" Emma argued. "What's the point?"

"The point is not to make Regina suspicious that anything out of the ordinary happened. I haven't changed since yesterday, Miss Swan you smell as though you've been running about in a forest, and we're all here even earlier than Regina is. I think if she finds us in this state, then she'll suspect something. And correct me if I'm wrong Miss Swan, but it's you who wants to draw attention to Regina and not your friend, am I right?"

Emma's shoulders rose before dropping with her sigh. "Fine."

And then with a final, "Miss Blanchard, stay right where you are" the pair of them left the jailhouse. He understood Emma's frustration at his suggestion, because he felt it. Magic made life easier. It made life better. He couldn't wait for the day that he could simply snap his fingers and feel fresh and clean in a new perfectly pressed suit. Instead he found himself racing home, muddling through a quick shower, pulling on new clothes, and then racing right back to the station to find…

Exactly what he'd wanted to find.

Emma's car wasn't in the lot, but there was another one. It was Regina's. And it was empty, which could only mean one thing…Regina was here, just as Emma predicted, just as he wanted. She was inside, probably seeing by now that the plan hadn't worked, that Mary Margaret was right where she was supposed to be, that Emma couldn't be fired for "sleeping on the job". With any luck she'd be feeling a bit of her victory slip through her fingers. But he wasn't done playing with her, not yet. Right now, she'd be upset with Mary Margaret, either for not finding the key or not running. In a few moments, she'd likely me upset with him. Neither of those were the goal. He wanted her furious with Emma and that…that was another plan altogether.

Inside, when he turned the corner, he found Regina staring at Mary Margaret in her cell who, it seemed, hadn't moved since Emma had returned her. Perfect.

"Excuse me, but my client is not having any visitors," he informed Regina, stepping in front of her.

For a moment, fire ignited in her eyes as she looked him over and recognized betrayal. With that kind of anger, it was hard to believe this was the same girl who'd once struggled to make fire.

"Of course not," she muttered as her mind began to put it all together.

"I'll see you out," he said in a low tone, trying to convey comfort to her. This was where things were going to get tricky.

"What is she doing here?" the Mayor growled when they were away from Mary Margaret.

"She came back."

"You said this was going to work. That she'd take the key, that she'd go!"

"And she did," he explained. "But, it seems that Miss Swan is rather more resourceful than we thought. Fear not, Your Majesty. Miss Blanchard is still guilty of murder. You may yet get what you want."

"Oh, I better. The only reason I made a deal with you, Gold, is because I wanted results."

"And results you shall have. See you at the arraignment," he snapped. Regina glared at him before turning to leave. He took a breath.

Tricky, indeed…but perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So really, the framing in this scene exists mostly to explain why we find everyone where we do when Regina arrives at the station. Stupid, I know, but it's one of those "this is cool for TV but not in real life" moments that had to be explained. Emma returns Mary Margaret in the wee hours of the morning, literally just before Regina steps in, and yet, in the shot when Regina pulls up, the bug is nowhere to be found, nor is Mr. Gold or his car. Emma doesn't appear to be in the station despite just dropping Mary Margaret off, and neither does Gold, but a second later, Gold is there. I had to figure out a way to get them there and then get Emma and Gold out so Regina could get in, and then they could get in...it's like I said. It's cool for a tv script, but in real life, there are challenges to it. Sending them home for a shower and fresh clothes worked well enough, even if I feel like I probably would have said, "screw that, I'm not going home just to come back, I'm staying here."
> 
> Thank you dearly, RolfB, for your comments. This is yet another short chapter but never fear; the next one is one of average size. It's also the start of the 1x18 chapters, so we really get to see Rumple finally dig into his manipulation of the situation. No more watching and waiting; up next, he is front and center and pulling the strings! Let's dive in! Peace and Happy Reading!


	42. Playing Both Sides

The arraignment went well, or at least as well as could be expected. Mary Margaret was to be held in the county jail without bond until the date of her trial. If convicted of murder, she would be taken to a state prison outside of Storybrooke to serve her sentence. If found innocent, she would be released. He had no intention of things ever getting that far, of course. But just because he didn't want things to get that far didn't mean he wouldn't go along and not make it look good. When they stood before the judge, he made a motion to dismiss a jury and instead take a judgment from the judge himself. It was a risky move that most lawyers wouldn't gamble with. He, however, wasn't interested in gambling. He just wanted to get this sham over and done with. A trial involving a jury meant that jury summons had to be sent out weeks ahead of time, accommodations had to be made, selections had to be processed, all before getting to trial…he didn't have time for that. Foregoing a jury meant that in two days, by the end of the week, Mary Margaret could be on trial, and Kathryn could be freed, and this could be over. He would be happy about that.

But first, he had a dance to get on with, one where both Emma and Regina trusted him to do their bidding. He had to keep Emma's suspicion on Regina. In fact, he needed it to be even worse than it was now. And as far as Regina went, he just had to keep her thinking he was on her side so that she'd never suspect he was working against her. Only then, once all this was over, would Emma make herself enough of a nuisance that Regina would properly turn her attention back to her. Only then could the breaking of the Curse begin to move forward again.

It was going to be one hell of a dance.

Regina was, of course, present at the arraignment. She and Emma sat in the back of the small courtroom as Spencer accused Mary Margaret of murder, and he reminded Mary Margaret to enter her "not guilty" plea. He made his argument that Mary Margaret was hardly a threat, that she had no family outside of Storybrooke and no means to flee. Spencer did his job in reminding the court that she had very few connections in Storybrooke, and there wasn't much to keep her here. He'd lost, as he knew he would. Regina still wasn't happy. As Emma led her away back to the prison, the Mayor had approached him, finally wondering why he was doing this, why she wasn't well on her way outside of Storybrooke by now. He assured her with a calm smile as if everything were perfectly under control even though he needed to take an aspirin for the headache it gave him every time he thought of it.

"Worry not, your Majesty. There's more than one way to get a person to cross the town line."

He was about to do something stupid, something that no defense lawyer would ever do to their client. But…was it stupid if he knew he was going to do it? If he didn't mean for it to go so far? Was it stupid if it was part of a strategic move?

A pre-trial interview with the prosecution was always a bad idea. It only gave the prosecutor more fuel to throw on the fire, rarely did it ever solve anything. But if he wanted Regina to trust him in this, then he was going to have to do something stupid. He was going to have to take a planned misstep. He was going to have to let Mary Margaret hang herself with the knowledge that at the end of the day, she wasn't going to be blamed for any of this. Regina was. Emma would suspect Regina, Regina would get away with it, Emma would be angry, the feud would be reestablished.

He needed a bigger bottle of aspirin.

Spencer agreed to the interview the next day. He didn't know a prosecutor who wouldn't have said "yes" to that offer. He didn't need to tell Regina that; he assumed that Spencer would inform her, and she'd be pleased when she heard the news. Mary Margaret would be easy enough to convince, seeing how she was so terrified and pliant in this personality she'd be Cursed into. Convincing this was a good idea with Emma, on the other hand…

"A pretrial interview with the prosecution?" Emma blanched, standing between him and the bars of Mary Margaret's cell as if she could protect her friend from him and this utterly insane idea. If this trial were real, with a real risk of incarceration, he probably would have done the same thing in her shoes. "Explain to me how that is a good idea."

"The D.A. merely wishes to ask Miss Blanchard a few questions."

"She's done answering questions. And why are we kissing up to the D.A.? Why aren't we going after Regina? She's the one who's setting up Mary Margaret."

"And what proof do we have of that, Sheriff?!" he replied, raising his voice. He had a million other things to do, a million other things he'd rather be doing, but he'd started this rouse; he had to finish it. The shovel and the shard were still out there, undiscovered as far as he knew. Maybe if he got her angry and desperate, it would be enough for her to finish her job and find what was right under her nose! Maybe anger would be enough to get her to search under every fucking rock in Storybrooke to find her proof! "Just because you found the Mayor's skeleton key in the cell doesn't mean we can prove she put it there."

"So, what's your plan?" Emma asked.

"I believe our best chance of winning this case is to employ our most valuable asset."

"What's that?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Well, that's you, dear," he muttered, stepping forward, keeping his tone calm and sweet despite the frustration he felt toward Emma. "A sweet, kind, elementary school teacher. Doesn't exactly fit the prototype of a killer, now, does it?" It was a common legal move in these sorts of cases. When the evidence was stacked against the defendant, then put their character on trial. Mary Margaret's personality and reputation, despite the evidence against her, should speak for itself. Of course, if Kathryn didn't make a show before then, the judge would still have no choice but to convict her on the evidence, which was exactly why Emma needed to go out and find more of it against Regina! A good show was all this was. Until it was over, it was just a good show, carefully staged.

"That's how you're going to get her acquitted? By using her personality?"

"Perception is everything, Miss Swan, not just in the courtroom, but in life. As such, I'm sure you can imagine how the jury would perceive Miss Blanchard if she agreed to cooperate with the District Attorney." There was no jury, just a judge, but he wanted her to remember that proving her innocent was about convincing more than one person outside of the courtroom walls. "These things engender trust. It shows the jury she's at least trying-"

"Emma?" Sidney Glass's voice cut through his remarkable bullshit story, and the three of them turned to look at the former writer for the Mirror. So…either Emma had hired him after all, or this was a wonderful coincidence. He fought back a smile. Either way, he could work with it. He had plans for all of this, and Sidney Glass fit into it in his own way. He knew Regina too well. "Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt. I just, uh, came by to drop these off. I thought they might brighten the place up."

Emma and Sidney dismissed themselves into her office, and Mary Margaret approached the bars of her cell so they could continue to talk. He kept talking, but he really wasn't listening to what came out of his mouth, just repeating facts that he knew wouldn't matter because, in the end, Mary Margaret would do what he recommended; it was in her nature, the very character Mr. Gold wished to exploit. So no, he wasn't really thinking about Mary Margaret. He was thinking about those flowers he'd seen. A vase of flowers. He had an idea. One that would push Emma closer to Regina if she failed to look in the woods for the shovel. Lucky how sometimes these things just fell into his lap.

"I'm going to do it," Mary Margaret predictably informed Emma when Sidney left, and she returned to them. "I'm going to talk to the D.A."

"Are you sure?" she asked, looking between the pair of them.

"Mr. Gold's right. I know I have nothing to hide, but no one else does. I need to let people see me for who I am."

"Excellent decision, Miss Blanchard." And it was excellent timing on the part of Albert Spencer, the former King George. He always was a prompt one. "My name is Spencer. I'm the District Attorney. Shall we begin?"

And there she was, Regina Mills, striding in behind him with a slight smile on her face. Whether it was because Spencer had explained how stupid this move was and she was coming to trust him again or because she was losing trust in him, he didn't know just yet. He just took a breath and kept up the dance.

"Yeah," Mary Margaret breathed with a smile. As the five of them went to an interrogation room, he glanced to the vase of flowers on Emma's desk. Any lack of trust they possessed was warranted as he typed out a quick text message to the bird keeping an eye on Sidney to fetch one of his bugs from his home quietly.

The pressure he was under wasn't physical, but it felt physical. He felt like he could feel it weighing his shoulders down, pressing against his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Everything he did was for someone else's benefit. Every word, every action, even the smallest tick and slightest gesture, the very tone of his voice, it was all done for someone else. It was a delicate balance.

Insisting he be in the interview with Mary Margaret, that was for Emma. And for Mary Margaret, he supposed. But using a gentle tone, not one that was frightened or angry, was done for Regina to make her think that if Spencer opposed the action, which he wouldn't, then he would step down. The carefully timed stare he gave Regina before going into the room with Mary Margaret was for Regina. A gesture of trust and understanding that he hoped would fool her into thinking he had her best interest at heart, not Mary Margaret's. The quick glance he gave to Emma was for the Savior, something that hopefully conveyed a message of guilt as they tried not to look like they were in on this together.

Emma and Regina watched the interview from behind the glass. Inside the room with Spencer and Mary Margaret, he reminded his client that he would tell her what she could and could not answer and told her that she should always be truthful.

"I have nothing to hide," she stated confidently. It was good. Pride always went before the fall.

The questions Spencer began with were innocent enough. What was her relationship with Missus Nolan? What was her relationship to David? How did she feel about him? When had the relationship turned into something more than friendship? Mary Margaret answered each question perfectly; without emotion, directly, deliberately…she truly left nothing to the imagination. She would have been any other lawyer's dream. But then, after being lured into a false sense of security, the questions turned a bit more deadly. He didn't object. For Regina.

"Did you and Mr. Nolan ever talk together about what to do concerning his wife?"

"Yes, several times, it was an issue of contention between us."

"Why was that?"

"Because neither of us wanted to hurt her."

"Miss Blanchard," he warned for Emma's sake.

"Hurt her, physically?" Spencer pressed.

"No!" Mary Margaret breathed. "No, nothing like that! Well…I mean…"

"Obviously, they never wished physical harm on her," he answered for Mary Margaret, giving her a slight message and a moment to calm down and get her head together.

"I'd like to hear that from her."

"Of course," she answered, her nerves suddenly under control once more. "Neither of us wanted to hurt her physically or emotionally. But I didn't like going behind her back. I wanted David to tell her about us so that we could truly be together and stop sneaking around."

"And David?"

"He couldn't do it. Not at first. She eventually did find out."

"I see, and…" Spencer looked down to check some of his notes before returning his gaze to her. "After she learned about your affair, Missus Nolan, the deceased, came to your school to confront you. Is that correct?"

"She was hurt, and she felt betrayed."

"She struck you, in the face, was it?"

"Yes, but-"

"That must've made you angry."

"You…you don't have to answer that," he insisted. It was a dance indeed, being watched by the two women he was working with and for and against. He had to push Mary Margaret for Regina but not look incompetent before Emma. He'd let enough questions slide, and fortunately, that one was innocent enough that he had a feeling Mary Margaret wouldn't exactly listen to legal counsel.

"No, it's okay," she assured him. Predictable. "I was not angry. I was sorry for all the pain I had caused her."

"Miss Blanchard, this is not a courtroom," Spencer pressed. "I'm not here to judge you. You can be honest with me."

"Shall we end this?" he muttered hardly loud enough for anyone to hear. Careful.

"I am being honest with you," Mary Margaret insisted.

"The wife of the man you loved humiliated you in a public forum. Surely, you must have felt some anger towards Kathryn?"

"Yes, I was angry-"

"And did you ever think about acting upon that anger?" he questioned, interrupting her again. He let that one go for Regina; he let Mary Margaret get worked up.

"Of course not," she spat out.

"I have a hard time believing that."

"Wh-why?" she gasped, her anger growing. He didn't interrupt, also for Regina.

"Because you wanted Kathryn Nolan gone."

"I never said that."

"All right," he insisted, getting to his feet. That move was for Emma. And Mary Margaret, though Regina would see it as acting. Hadn't she learned…everything was an act with him. "My client is answering no more questions for the day."

"Your client agreed to this interview because she claimed she had nothing to hide."

"I don't have anything to hide," she shouted back at Spencer, who continued. He didn't stop it.

"Then, what is your answer? You wanted Kathryn gone, didn't you?"

"No."

"Even after she tried to keep you and David apart? After she slapped you in public? After she made you a pariah in your own town?"

"Yes, of course, I wanted her gone," Mary Margaret laughed suddenly, sarcastically. "She was the only thing keeping us apart. So, yeah, I wanted her gone. Is that what you want to hear?"

He shut his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. Another act. He'd wanted something like this to happen. He wanted it to happen because he knew Regina would see it as the victory it would have been if he hadn't fixed the whole thing. She would leave. And he could get on to his business. By tonight…her so-called confession wouldn't matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two scenes, one chapter. I felt these two actually worked well together. And again, we're back to Rumple being in complete and total control of everything, planning out each step before he even takes it. Everything from Sidney to Emma going into the woods to find the shovel shard, how he acts, the things he says, it's all done to benefit those around him. It's all a show. And I feel like he does it marvelously.
> 
> Thank you to RolfB for commenting the previous chapter. I'm really grateful for those, especially in the midst of these chapters that are so difficult to keep track of because a million things are happening at once. They're not going to be around for much longer, though. Really, in about two more chapters, we will wrap this section up, and we'll be into our final section of this fiction. Hard to believe, but stick with me a bit longer, and we'll make the rest of this count! Peace and Happy Reading!


	43. The Endgame

He'd never really been one to drink away his problems, but Mr. Gold kept a bottle of whiskey in his shop for difficult and stressful times, and the last couple of days had certainly required him to crack open that bottle finally. There was a time in his life where he felt like the voices of the Dark One and the Seer were a constant buzzing in his head. Nowadays, the only voice he heard was his own, but he was thinking enough thoughts to make up for at least half a dozen of the Dark Ones. The whiskey helped to dull the voices a bit, but there was no hope for his headache, and he'd come to the conclusion that until the "trial" ended today, there wasn't any amount of medicine or magic that would help that.

There were so many pieces to manage, so many players to keep moving but separate! He was certain this was more difficult than orchestrating the Curse in the Enchanted Forest. Then, he'd had the gift of time. He'd had to be patient. Now, it was a different story. With Emma here, he was eager to move forward, and so were Regina and Spencer, which meant that he had to play his little game on their timetable, not his own. So far, he'd done well.

After the interview with Spencer, Emma was angry, a perfectly acceptable and expected reaction. It was what he wanted. After they'd concluded and Mary Margaret was locked away in her cell, Emma had exclaimed that she needed "air" and left the building. He had volunteered to stay behind and "speak" with Mary Margaret while she was away. Regina and Spencer left shortly after she did. Regina was grinning madly at the turn of events, and Mary Margaret was so upset by them that she'd withdrawn. No amount of telling her that it wasn't her fault and it was clearly sarcasm she'd used seemed to help. He stationed himself in Emma's office as he'd waited for one of his spies to return to him with the request he'd made earlier. Just before Emma returned, he met the man in the hall where he quickly placed one of Sidney Glass's infamous bugs into his hand. While Mary Margaret cried into her pillow, he placed the thing into the plant Sidney had brought earlier himself.

No, it wasn't perfect. Yes, Emma would think that Regina was setting Glass up. But it would be enough that Emma would have no choice but to pursue Glass, and when Regina offered him up as a sacrifice to save herself, it would only make Emma angrier. Of course, it would be all the better with a confession, but he could get to that part later if need be. For now, he needed to see this play itself out.

It was well after dark when Emma returned to the station. She wasn't herself. Her face was set, her eyes wide looking almost crazed.

"That was a rather large gulp of air, Miss Swan," he commented.

"Get out," she ordered in an unfriendly tone. After what he'd put Mary Margaret through in the interview, he didn't blame her for that attitude. "I have to wake the judge," she explained, getting on the phone immediately and pulling a bag out of her pocket marked "evidence." "I think I might have just found the smoking gun."

Inside the bag, there was something very familiar. It was the shard from the shovel he'd cut off himself. Perfect. He'd always assumed that she'd go out and find it, though lately, he'd thought he'd have to give her a hint of some kind. But seeing that she'd done just that all on her own was a sudden relief, even if it was cutting it close. Still…it didn't end there. He called Stan the moment he left the station, asking for a full update of Emma's movements. Apparently, Emma and the new stranger had not only found the shovel shard, but they'd staked out Regina's house and snuck into the garage already, which meant that with or without the search warrant, Emma already knew the shovel that matched it was there. He hated what he was about to do next, it was a risk, but it was a risk that had the potential to pay off greatly. If he wanted Emma angry at Regina by the end of all this, then he had to make sure she felt like Regina was just scraping by, like she was smarter than her, like she was blatantly breaking the law, hiding it, and getting away with it. He knew from experience that pissed her off.

So he did what he had to do. He told Stan to quietly replace the shovel in the garage with a new one. He was confused at the command but did as he was told. The next afternoon, when he called Emma for an update, he heard exactly what he wanted to. Anger. Hurt. Betrayal. Emma had gotten the search warrant and served it to Regina that morning, but he listened as she angrily suggested that somehow Regina knew they were coming and had switched out the shovel. He had a smile on his face as his voice expressed disappointment. He encouraged her to keep going, to find the truth because Mary Margaret's life depended on it. It was a half-truth. Getting rid of the shovel was bad for Mary Margaret. It was risky…except for the fact that he had a trump card in his hand, a "get out of jail free" card for the schoolteacher. So while Emma had spent the majority of the day before the trial running around doing…whatever it was she thought might help, he was making the final arrangements that would really get the job done.

Earlier in the day, he'd had Stan fetch a very special package from his cousin at the hospital; a few pills and a syringe. He'd had the boy wait until dark to put it in the mailbox where Dove and Kathryn were staying. Once he had confirmation that it had been done, he called Dove from his home as he sipped down more whiskey.

"The time has come, Mr. Dove."

"Time for…"

"A vacation. Out in the mailbox, you'll find a syringe and a couple of tablets from your cousin: nothing harmful, just powerful sedatives. Give the pills to Kathryn in her food. Once they take effect, give her what's in the syringe. Then, just before daybreak, let her go."

"Let her go? Just like that?"

"Just like that. Make sure she doesn't see your face, of course. Drive her out to the town line and let her go where you found her. She'll make her way into town, and you can come back just in time for rent collection. After that…take a drive up to the cabins…take a couple of days off for your service."

The rent was due tomorrow. He'd never once given the boy time off from that duty, and he wasn't about to now as it would work in his own favor in case he'd slipped up, and Kathryn did see something. As for the vacation, he knew it was like offering water to a man in the desert. Dove had been working hard all this time, and there wasn't any chance he was going to argue with his orders after that suggestion was on the table. He'd take it gladly. And after Dove collected the rent and they'd debriefed the situation, he'd be needing less of him and his cousins anyway. If this worked, he could go back to watching Emma and Regina. The rest could do as they liked so long as they didn't interfere in his plans to pit Emma and Regina against each other.

That morning, when he arrived at the station for Mary Margaret's formal transfer to the trial, he could feel that both she and Emma were angry at him. But he brushed it off, unwilling to let it get to him. He was confident that Regina was about to lose an ally, and Mary Margaret was about to go free. Why? Because someone couldn't go to prison for a murder they didn't commit.

"Mary Margaret…" Emma whispered as a despondent-looking Mary Margaret was cuffed and led away. She didn't respond. So, naturally, the Savior turned on him.

"You told me you could fix this. That's why I came to you. So that you could make sure Regina didn't win."

"She hasn't, yet," he assured her. Her look didn't change. She didn't believe him.

"Well, she's going to. And now, my friend is going to pay for me trusting you."

"Look, Sheriff. I know this is…emotional," he commented, "but it's also not over. You must have faith. There's still time."

"Time for what?"

"For me to work a little magic," he smiled before leaving. As he got to the door, he heard something crash. The vase with the bug under it. When he looked back, Emma was picking something out of the debris. Perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If he's controlling one thing, then he's controlling it all. The shovel, the bug, if we follow the logic that it's Rumple, then he has to be the one behind those things. And truly, Regina never does admit that she's behind either of them. She just gives knowing and taunting smirks, victorious little smiles that signal she knows she's about to win. On the contrary, in an episode when everything all shakes out and Rumple's plan is revealed, Regina looks shocked to realize just how much everything is going to point back to her as if she has no idea what's been going on up until that point. Regina thinks Rumple is working for her against Mary Margaret and so she has no reason to distrust him and assumes what's going on is Rumple at work. In the same way, Emma thinks Rumple is working for her to free Mary Margaret, and so she's got no reason to think twice that all the little goings-on are Rumple and not Regina or Sidney. He does cover his tracks well, our clever little Dark One. I think that's one reason I liked writing this, as Rumple being the one in charge of everything. It does show just how clever he is; to set someone up for setting someone up for murder is a lot harder than it looks.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you, RolfB and Ingers123, for your latest comments on the previous chapters! It's nice to know I've still got some readers out there! We've only got one more chapter in this episode before we move on to 1x19. I must admit, I'm rather fond of the next chapter, and I'm hoping you will be too. It's certainly an unseen but very clever moment for our Rumple that you might not be expecting, but probably should after the above message. He's orchestrating it all. Stands to reason, there would be one more thing that he'll help Regina secure to ensure his plan. Peace and Happy Reading!


	44. Regina's Insurance Policy

He hadn't planed much of a defense for the trial simply because he didn't have to. Spencer would be able to present his case against her first, and if by some miracle they got through all that before Kathryn was discovered, he did have a few character witnesses lined up, but he would be shocked if this got that far. Just as Spencer was certain that this case was open and shut, he was confident it wouldn't last that long.

Sure enough, Albert Spencer was halfway through his opening statement that morning when someone, Ruby, came slamming into the courthouse. All eyes turned to her at the unexpected interruption, and she looked around awkwardly at the court. Until she saw Mary Margaret. Then she smiled, straightened her back, and made her way down the center aisle to Albert Spencer, where she handed him a note.

The judge was antsy and frustrated at the turn of events, urging Spencer to make an explanation, to tell the court what was happening. Instead, he looked up from the note, his face so crestfallen it was difficult to hold in his knowing smile.

"Your honor…I'd like to make a motion to delay these proceedings."

"On what grounds?" he argued as it would have been expected. He longed to turn around and see Regina's face. "My client is entitled to a speedy trial and is eager to prove her innocence. Your Honor, we are prepared to proceed. If Mr. Spencer has not met the burden of-"

"Kathryn is alive!" Ruby shouted out before he could finish. The sounds of not so hushed whispers and the judge's gavel banging through the noise disrupted the peace. But Ruby went on as if she hadn't heard it, fanning the flames. "We found her this morning, outside of Granny's! She's alive! I saw her myself. Mary Margaret didn't kill anyone! She's innocent!"

If it was chaos before, then what followed was absolute pandemonium as the judge tried to get the shocked courtroom in order. People were openly talking, no longer caring if they were whispering. In fact, he thought he heard someone in the back scream while the judge continued to yell for order. And there in the midst of it all was Mary Margaret, her jaw open, her eyes wide on her pale face. Deliverance. Salvation. He put a hand on her shoulder, and all at once, he saw the muscles of her back body bend and contract. He saw her take one timid breath, then another, before her body curled up on itself. Everyone in the court saw as tears sprang to her eyes just before she threw her hands over her face and wept.

It was over, in her opinion, but not in the courts. There was more work to be done. Of course, he argued that she be freed immediately, but Spencer insisted that she be remanded at the county jail until they could be sure she had nothing to do with this. He didn't argue. Emma interviewed Kathryn, and a few hours later, they were all gathered once more in the judge's chambers as she reported that Kathryn had been drugged. It was going to take a bit more time to clear what she'd been given out of her system, but Mary Margaret was innocent. Kathryn claimed that she'd been held in a basement of some kind. He himself provided testimony that Mary Margaret neither owned nor rented property in town that matched the description of where the woman was held. In addition, he had bank statements to prove she paid no one else for the use of such a place and never had large amounts of cash withdrawn to pay under the table. It was impossible. And of course, there was the matter that while Mary Margaret was in jail, Kathryn had been cared for. Emma reported that while she'd never seen the face of her captor, Mrs. Nolan had been fed and reasonably looked after, not to mention drugged all while Mary Margaret had sat in jail for these past few days. She couldn't have been in two places at once, not unless Regina wanted to confess to giving the skeleton key to make the argument that she'd snuck out to do these deeds only to sneak back in. And she was not willing to do that, it seemed.

Who had done it? No one in town seemed to know. Ironically enough, the only thing anyone could really know for certain was that it wasn't Mary Margaret. In being under arrest, she was the only one that had an iron tight alibi. And with that, Mary Margaret was free to go. Emma beamed as the judge gave the appropriate apologies, and Mary Margaret fell into her arms, saying something about going home to get a hot shower and sleep in her own bed.

He managed to avoid Regina on the way out, something he desperately had wanted to do, given he had one last thing to arrange for all of this. He pulled the birds he had watching Emma and David and Mary Margaret and sent them after one person, telling them only to take him to his cabin in the woods and wait there for him. It was time to have a talk with Sidney Glass.

He had to convince him to take the blame for Regina, show him how to play the game. Regina would do the rest. When she got scared, she'd look for someone to blame, someone to help that wasn't him, and Sidney…Sidney was the obvious choice, especially because of their previous association. Add that to the bug he'd planted in Emma's office. Emma would have enough that she'd have no choice but to go along with it even if she still believed Regina was behind it all. And there was no doubt in his mind that Emma would still think Regina was responsible. Emma would be angry at Regina for all that she'd done to Mary Margaret, all she was putting Sidney Glass through, and she'd lash out. Regina would be angry at Emma; she'd recognize her as a threat. The two women would get back to focusing on one another. Everything would be right back on track for Emma to believe and the Curse to break...and then he could get his egg and bring magic back to find Bae. Finally.

"Relax, Mr. Glass," he muttered when he arrived in the cabin and found Sidney sitting there rubbing his hands nervously on his pants.

He smirked, the corners of his mouth trembling anxiously as if he couldn't manage to make light of this no matter how hard he was trying. "Hard to do when the last man in this cabin with you was just released from the hospital."

Now it was his turn to smirk, to let out a small snort of amusement to show the man that he wasn't denying anything but rather thought nothing of the incident. "Relax, Mr. Glass," he repeated, taking a seat opposite him and motioning for his associates to wait outside. "This conversation is for your benefit, not mine."

"My benefit? What could you possibly have to say to me?"

"In the next few days, Mr. Glass, you're going to be charged with kidnapping, blackmail, wiretapping, and fraud. You'll be found guilty. But, better yet, if you're smart, you'll admit to it."

A quiet settled over the room for a moment as Sidney took in the words, and his eyes widened.

"For the Nolan woman?!" Sidney blanched. "But…but how? I'm innocent! I didn't do this!"

"It doesn't matter if you did it. The Mayor is going to make it look like you did to save her arse."

"She can't do that."

"Oh, Sidney…we both know she can." He smiled sinisterly, and suddenly whatever words Sidney had that he was going to argue died on his tongue as his eyes widened and he considered what he was saying. They both knew it. But just in case he needed reminding… "That heart tested positive for Kathryn Nolan, didn't it…and yet here she is alive and well. Who do you think arranged that test?"

A lie. A blatant lie, as he'd been the one to arrange it himself. But Sidney didn't know that. He didn't need to know that.

"But…but _I_ didn't do any of it. I…I gave her some phone records, but…Oh!" Sidney suddenly sat forward on his couch, leaning toward him as his face screwed up to the point he thought he might cry. "You've gotta help me! We have to stop her! You know the truth. Surely we can do something!"

"Oh, yes, yes, of course, of course, but…are you truly sure you want me to?"

"Are you crazy?!" he shouted. "Of course I want you to. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because life is a game, Mr. Glass," he explained with a sigh as though this lesson was nothing. He had to be very careful about how he approached this. He had to make it desirable. Even more than that, at the end of the day, he didn't want Regina to know they'd had this conversation, and so he had to make it so appealing that Sidney would want to claim the idea for himself and leave him out of it. He was trying to be very calm about this, but in reality, a lot rested on this conversation. Without it, Regina might go to prison. Then Emma would never break his Curse, and the Savior would never believe. "Life is a game that we all play, and it's not about who gets to the finish line first, it's about who is playing the smartest."

"I don't understand. Why? Why would she set me up? Why would she set Mary Margaret up like that? Why would Regina do any of this?!"

"Why doesn't matter," he shrugged. "What does matter is that she did this, arranged it all. Now it's all falling apart, and she risks having it all point back to her. She risks prison, losing Henry, losing her power, unless she finds someone to pin it on, someone to take the blame for her. You're the obvious candidate."

"Me?! Why me?"

"You've worked with her before. You were devoted to her, a faithful follower. You've gotten her information before, pulled strings for her in the past, and you just confessed to getting her phone records for this very case. And I have it on good authority that she'd already taken one of those bugs you're so fond of and planted it in the Sheriff's office. She'll frame you, Sidney. She's already begun. She'd claim you were angry at her, and so you tried to frame her for framing Mary Margaret…quite funny when you think of it."

"B-b-b-but why? Why would she…"

"Inconsequential. All that matters now is that she'll get away with it. Unless…"

"Unless?"

"Unless you play the game with intelligence. Unless you think things through."

"I don't understand."

"I know. Which is why I'm going to walk you through this as plainly as I can. Think of me as your own personal seer, laying out your future. You have two options available to you, Sidney. The first, we fight her accusations."

"Yes!" he exclaimed, slamming a hand down on the table between them. "That's what I want to do! I want to fight it!"

"Wonderful. But you'll lose."

Sidney's face fell. "But-"

"The evidence against you Sidney is…well, it's impressive. A jury won't believe you've been framed, they look for the simplest explanation possible and what's happened…it's complicated. A jury won't be able to follow it! Regina, she may get a slap on the wrist, might get her hands a little dirty on the other end, but you…you will be convicted. You will go to prison."

Sidney's throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard. "So…what's my other option?"

"Embrace it," he explained, sitting back with a smile. "I believe around here the phrase is 'when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.'"

Sidney narrowed his eyes at him and turned his head slightly as if he couldn't decide whether or not to be offended. "Are you…are you suggesting I take the fall for this?!"

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting, yes."

There was a heartbeat of silence between the pair before Sidney suddenly launched out of his seat. "Out!" he screamed. "I want out! I want to leave!" But when he opened the door, he came face to face with Stan and found his way blocked. As the man stepped forward, Sidney stepped back.

"Thank you, Mr. Dove," he called out as Stan reached inside for the door and pulled it closed, trapping Sidney once more. "That would not be the smart option, Sidney," he continued cordially to the man as he began to pace around the small cabin. "If you are feeling trapped now, just think about how a cell would feel."

"Why bother?!" he shouted. "If I listen to you, then there is a cage in my future no matter what I choose!"

"No one said that," he corrected in a quiet voice that forced Sidney to stop moving and be silent if he wanted to hear what he had to say. "Sidney, you are currently unemployed, disgraced, not a single friend in the world. You have nothing to lose. You are at rock bottom, and therefore the only place you can go is up. Now, Regina has targeted you because you are a convenient flunky. The two of you have a history together. She can spin that any way she wants, or…you can take control of it and spin it for yourself."

Sidney watched him carefully in the purposeful pause. "I'm listening…" the man finally murmured.

He smiled. Suddenly he was aware of what a shame it was that he'd never gone fishing. He probably would have been good at it. "She needs a Savior right now," he explained gently, enticingly. "You could be that Savior. Confess. To all of it. You can tell the court that you kidnapped Kathryn, planted the bug in Emma's office, the knife, the heart, the phone records all of it. Present your recent firing and undying love for the Mayor as motive."

"Yes, but if I admit to this-"

"Politics…you and I both know the Mayor is Queen around here. If you admit to this, on her terms, here's how this will play out. We'll claim that you are unstable, suffering from a mental breakdown. You'll be declared to be incompetent at trial, unable to aid in your own defense. You'll go to a psychiatric ward in the hospital for treatment, spend a few weeks there, you'll get a good vacation before they declare you well and no longer a danger to the public. You'll be free. And Regina will be so grateful she'll hire you back, or…"

"Or?" he gasped, hanging on his every word, falling for it just the way that he wanted him to.

"Or you'll have blackmail on her. You can threaten her with the truth. Maybe she'll give you a raise, maybe more…"

"More?"

"Perhaps. Loyalty can be a very valuable thing. It's all how you play the game. One way ends badly for you. The other…the other gets you ahead in life, potentially everything you've ever wanted. So, yes, Sidney, I am here to help you. But the question is…do you want me to?"

There was another pause in the room where he swore he could hear Sidney's heartbeat. Or perhaps that was just his own, echoing in his ears as he waited for Sidney to think through the options he'd laid before him. Finally, Sidney sat up a little straighter, rolled his shoulders, and held his head higher. Like before, his eyes widened, but this time it wasn't in fear but rather in determination and perhaps realization. He wasn't surprised when Sidney turned his gaze on him and choked out three words that sealed his fate.

"I'll do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If he plans one thing, then he plans them all. Really, the inspiration for this actually comes from the next episode. A lot of Sidney's behavior is interesting, but the scene where Regina brings him to Emma and he "confesses" was really the clincher. To me, it always looked painful, like he was there, and he was saying the words and didn't want to be saying the words but doing it anyway. There has to be motivation for why he's agreed to take the fall. And yeah, I suppose it's likely that Regina could have had a conversation like this with him that was very similar; in fact, for this to work, I think she would have had to sit him down and say, "I need a favor". However, I don't see Sidney agreeing to it so easily given their relationship simply because I don't think she'd ever point out to him the true benefits of it all. Regina may promise him a raise, but she wouldn't bring up the whole "you'll have blackmail on me" thing like Rumple would. Also, I think he's someone who would be out of the door before she even got there. Having Rumple talk to Sidney, lay out his options and the possibilities, using his doves to make sure that he stays put long enough to listen...that made sense to me. This way, when Regina does sit him down for the "I need a favor" conversation, he's primed and ready for it.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your reviews on the last chapter. Very much appreciated. I'm dying to hear what you think of this chapter since it isn't anything that is "seen" but rather just assumed. I hope that you'll think it falls in line with things and makes sense. Let me know your thoughts! Up next, we're heading into new territory with the presence of a certain dark-haired stranger taking center stage! Good things to come. Stick around! Peace and Happy Reading!


	45. The Dark-Haired Stranger

He was in the back polishing some silver when the bell over his door rang. He smiled. Regina, no doubt.

With the charges dropped and Mary Margaret released from jail late last night, he figured she'd be on a rampage. He'd avoided her yesterday, today he doubted he'd be so lucky, and frankly, he was fine with that. He wanted her to come in angry and leave scared. He wanted her to begin to figure out who she could reach out to in order to clear her name and come to the conclusion it was Sidney Glass. After freeing Mary Margaret, she'd no doubt be upset and worried that he took Sidney's case, but after everything went her way again, he expected she'd be much more…compliant.

So, he gathered his cane in his hand, squared his shoulders to prepare for the firestorm about to hit him-

And found the wrong Mills staring him down in the shop.

"Hey, Mr. Gold," Henry chirped in his innocent voice. Given what he was expecting, this was a far more pleasant surprise.

"Good morning, Henry. What can I do for you?" he asked with a smile, wondering why the boy wasn't in school. Probably Regina had been too distracted to notice that her son had skipped for the day. But of course, he wanted to know "why" he'd suddenly decide to do something like that. The boy had been a lot more rebellious since Emma arrived; perhaps skipping was becoming normal for him?

"I want to get a gift for Miss Blanchard."

"Oh, I see," he nodded.

"Since she didn't kill that woman."

He had to fight back a genuine laugh at that comment. Children…precious. "Good thinking." He watched as Henry walked up to a wind chime that was hanging from the ceiling. It was more of an artistic piece, pretty but not worth much.

"Are these bells?" he asked, touching them so that they let out a song of their own. "Cool," Henry smiled. Indeed. To be quite honest, those chimes did remind him of Mary Margaret. They'd probably be perfect.

"See anything you fancy?"

"It should be something special, like…thoughtful. Am I right?"

He laughed a little. He hadn't gotten a gift for a woman since Belle. Henry might believe and know who he was, he shuddered at the thought that Henry might even know his history, but he didn't want Henry to know that. So he answered as Mr. Gold would have, with a small laugh and shake of the head, ever the salesman. "You're asking the wrong man."

"How much?" Henry asked, looking up at the chimes.

Ordinarily sixty. But he liked Henry. He'd even admit that he was charmed a little bit by his innocence in being here looking for a gift for his teacher, so he answered "Forty" instead.

"Wow, that's a lot," he pulled a handful of crinkled, disorganized cash out of his front pocket and counted. "I have seventeen dollars and… sixty-three cents."

He nodded. He'd be willing to give the boy a discount, but not that much of one. "I have some cheaper ones in the back you might like." But when he pulled back the curtain to the backroom, he was shocked to find that he wasn't alone as he had been when he left. There was a man there. Looking through his shelves. Who on earth?!

"May I help you?"

The man turned. His grip on his can tightened as he took a breath. No, this was not just an ordinary man. He knew who it was. It was the stranger. The man that had arrived in Storybrooke. The man that he'd all but forgotten to care about since Valentine's Day; August W. Booth. But that wasn't how he knew him. This was the first time he'd actually seen the man close up, not from a distance. And now that he was here and he was looking at him, he was beginning to think it was a mistake to have ignored him for so long.

He knew him. Not personally, but he knew him from the Enchanted Forest, from a vision he'd had long ago when Jiminy had been turned into a cricket and stuck so close with Gepetto. He'd seen in his head a flash of this man-The Dark Haired Man. The Dark Haired Man who knew Baelfire. It was him. He was the stranger in town. And now he was here. In his shop! His mouth had gone dry, his palms sweaty, and he felt like he couldn't breathe, but…

What was he doing in the shop? Better yet, what was he doing in the back of his shop.

And most important of all, what was his connection to Baelfire?!

"Yeah," he drawled, standing up straight and looking over at him. "I'm looking for some maps. I'm a bit of a collector," he smiled.

"Yes…" Odd. He sounded calm, but he looked startled as if he'd just been caught. That suggested he knew he was somewhere he shouldn't be. Which meant he hadn't wanted to be found. Why had the Dark-Haired Stranger come to snoop around in his shop? What would he give to have a little chat with that Seer right now? "Well, there's maps through in the shop. This is my office."

He raised his eyebrows robotically as if shocked…but the look never quite made it to his eyes. "I thought this was the entrance."

A door that came in from the back alley surrounded by trash cans was the entrance?

"It's not," he snapped. "The shop's through there."

He nodded. "My apologies."

He watched as the boy moved around the table then finally through the curtains to the front of the shop. "Hey August!" he heard Henry greet happily.

"Henry! What are you doing here?"

"Looking for a gift for Miss. Blanchard. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for maps of far-off places. Apparently, I was looking in the wrong place."

He was lying. The question was, why was he lying. What had he been searching for? But above all, how did he know his son?! How could he get him to tell him without revealing too much? Especially in front of Henry? Was there any way?

He bit his tongue as he let himself back into the front room. He hadn't even looked for the other chimes as he'd told Henry he would. He didn't want the Stranger alone in his shop. He may know Baelfire, but something about how he'd found him had him feeling nothing but distrust. An interesting reaction.

"Find anything else you like, Henry?" he asked of the boy.

"Um…no, I don't think I have enough money. I'm gonna go home and see if I can find some more."

"Oh! Hey, here I'll spot the kid," the Stranger, August, stated.

"You don't have to do that!" Henry blushed.

"Oh, I'd be honored!" he stated, looking at the chimes Henry had been looking at. He reached up and plucked it down for the boy. "Fine quality, beautiful sound, freshly cleaned…can't be more than…what, fifty dollars?" he asked, glancing over at him.

Impressive.

"It's sixty," he bartered. As long as it was August buying it, there was no need for a discount.

"I only have seventeen-"

"Tell you what, we'll go fifty-fifty on it, and you can pay me back later," August smiled before pulling three twenties out of his wallet and setting them on the counter.

"Thanks, August. Thanks, Mr. Gold!" Henry called as he took his chimes and rushed for the door. But just then, the clock chimed, reminding him of what time it was, and he remembered, perhaps a bit too late, that something else was wrong with this picture.

"Shouldn't you be in school, Henry?"

The boy froze at the door and looked back at him with wide, scared eyes like it was him who had just been caught in the back of his shop. "Yyyyes," he answered, drawing his answer out. "Yes, I should. Oh, look at the time! Don't want to be late!" He let out a forced chuckle as his gaze slid to August. The boy needed an acting lesson.

"Oh, I can take you," August volunteered kindly, maybe a little too kindly. "My bike's right outside."

Perhaps they both needed an acting lesson.

"How very accommodating," he snapped in his direction suspiciously. It wasn't possible that a ten-year-old had just successfully acted as a distraction, had he?

"Thanks, but…I'll ask Emma," Henry said, suddenly looking genuinely sorry and guilty. Perhaps he hadn't then. Either that or he was a better actor than he was giving him credit for. "My mom wouldn't like it." Or perhaps there were some lines with Regina that he still didn't dare to cross.

"I'll walk you to the station then."

But this August…he was rather eager to make a quick exit until…something made him pause. Before he could turn to leave, something on the opposite wall made him stop. He watched in horror as he let himself stride behind the glass cases and pluck a ball from the shelf. It was Baelfire's ball.

"What can you tell me about this?"

"It's not a map," he snapped, working his way over toward him, wishing he could move faster.

"Obviously. But it's a…unique piece."

"Unique indeed. And here by accident. It's not for sale."

"Odd place to put it if it's not for sale."

Finally, by his side, he reached over and yanked the ball out of his hand and into his own arms. No one touched Baelfire's things!

"Like I said…accident."

"You don't seem to make mistakes," he commented, looking the ball over. "I'll give you two hundred for it."

"No. No sale."

"Three hundred."

He huffed. "It's a child's toy. There's nothing special about it. I couldn't accept that offer."

"One hundred then."

"This item is priceless. It's not for sale," he growled, only to become frustrated at the smile that curved over August's face.

"Too unimportant for a high offer but too priceless for a low offer…strange."

"I don't need to explain my business to you, Mr. Booth."

August smiled. "You've heard of me."

"Small town," he explained before August looked over his shoulder at Henry.

"I know how that goes. I'll be in touch, for the map…of course."

"Of course."

He sneered as the Booth finally stepped away and ushered Henry out the door. August Wayne Booth…if it weren't for the fact that the Seer had told him he knew his son, he probably would have killed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun chapter to write. I really enjoyed getting to add to the conversations that are going on in this meeting because we know that what we saw on the show couldn't be the end of it, especially since this is the first time that Gold is seeing August up close and personal. We set up this story of "The Dark-Haired Man" in the Enchanted Forest, and it was fun to have that finally come to fruition.
> 
> Thank you so much, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter. I hope that you like this one. I hope that you like the added conversation and think everything is really in character. It was fun having them sort of barter over the ball, especially because Gold is seen holding it in another scene after this one. The dialogue in the shop with Henry, in the beginning, is only slightly made up; you have no idea how many times I listened to this scene, full volume, with headphones, and closed caption to figure out what they were saying while August was snooping around the back. I think I got most of it right. If not, well...you know what to do! Welcome to 1x19. We're here for a while so get comfortable. Peace and Happy Reading!


	46. One Problem to Another

Of all the voices he'd once had in his head, he missed the Seer the most. He missed the way that she gave him hints, the way she sometimes filled in the blanks that she had created, the way she urged him to respond in certain ways to various situations.

This was one of those situations he missed her most.

He hadn't a clue what to do about the Dark-haired Stranger, August Booth. He'd been one of his very first visions outside of the original vision. He'd seen him clearly in his mind's eye just after Jiminy had become a cricket. That was what triggered the vision in the first place. Jiminy knew the Dark-Haired stranger somehow. Somewhere he had sketched his face into one of his Chronicles. Along with the image of his face, he'd gotten only one bit of information. The Dark-haired Stranger knew Baelfire. But how? The stranger had never triggered any memories for him of who he might be. He'd never in all his life seen him before that vision. He was positive he wasn't from their village, which only left one option. If the Stranger didn't know Baelfire from before he'd left, then he had to know him after he'd left. He knew Baelfire here, not there. But then…how?! How had he ended up here, and where was Baelfire?! Why was he here and Bae not?

After he'd left, he'd made only one call, and that was to Granny to inquire about Bed and Breakfast's only current occupant. She hadn't been pleased, but he'd reminded her that it was, in fact, his property, and he was entitled to know who was staying on it. Unfortunately, all he'd gotten from that conversation was exactly what he already knew. His name was August Wayne Booth. The woman hadn't asked to see a driver's license, and he'd been paying in cash, so she had nothing to the contrary. He tried to remember when he'd pulled out his wallet if he'd seen anything other than cash inside, but he'd been too busy staring at him to do such a thing. He'd place an inquiry later to do a proper background check, but with nothing more than a name and the knowledge that he had a motorcycle license, he hoped, he didn't think anything would come back.

He wanted the Seer. No…he needed the Seer. He needed information, more than he already had. He needed to understand who he was and where he'd come from…he just needed to understand him. Period.

The fact that he knew Baelfire was important, but at the moment, it wasn't everything. He'd been in the back. He was almost positive it wasn't an accident that he was there, and at the moment, he couldn't be sure if he'd been working with Henry either. He knew the pair of them had been around town, but he also knew that Booth had been spending a lot of time with Emma and lately, time with Emma seemed to automatically translate to time with Henry. Would he involve the boy in his plans? And what the hell were his plans to begin with?! Why had he been poking around in the back room?

Why had he been drawn to Baelfire's ball? Coincidence?

Booth was really all that he wanted to think about. But want wasn't need. And as he stood there behind his counter looking down at Bae's ball, he was suddenly reminded of other things he had to do when Regina Mills finally came storming into his shop.

"You owe me an explanation!" Regina yelled as she strode into the shop and marched up to him. With her angry stomping, he was happy that the counter was between them. "Your Majesty! I've been expecting you!" he smiled. It was a struggle, putting a smile on his face and acting as though he was excited to see her, but he managed.

"You broke our deal!" she stated, ignoring his comment.

He huffed at her accusation. If it hadn't been for Baelfire's ball between them, that comment might not have stung as it did. "I broke one deal in my life, dear," he corrected. "And it certainly wasn't this one."

"Kathryn was supposed to die! And Mary Margaret was to get the blame."

"Yeah, murder seems so much worse here, though, doesn't it? You can't just turn someone into a snail and then step on them, can you?" he commented with a wide smile. Back in the Enchanted Forest, he probably would have laughed it all away as he explained the flaw, the loophole to her deal that he'd exploited. Apparently, he was quite out of practice. Or maybe just distracted. Not that Regina seemed to notice. She was too busy glaring at him.

"You didn't say 'kill her,'" he pointed out. "We agreed that something tragic should happen to her. Now, abduction is tragic."

"The intent was perfectly clear!"

"Oh, let's not talk about intent," he interrupted. "Intent is meaningless."

"Intent is everything!"

"Please!" he snapped before she'd gone any further, invoking their former deal.

She could argue it all she wanted, but it was meaningless. Even after studying under him, she hadn't learned a damn thing. She hadn't learned to specify. She hadn't learned to cover every possibility and state, clearly and explicitly, what she wanted. If she had, they wouldn't be having this conversation right now. The truth was that she'd made a mistake, he'd taken advantage of it, and no matter what she said, there was no getting around that fact. He wasn't about to stand here and waste his time arguing with her when there were other things to be done. When he was so close to getting his Bae back that he could almost feel him in his arms!

"This is going to raise all kinds of questions about where she was and how the test results were fake."

He smiled. So…she'd finally stumbled onto the last phase of his master plan. An ordinary person might think that the end of the road would make himself a target. He knew better. All this anger, this fear, it would be directed onto the Savior. He was confident. She just needed a little push. Or perhaps a big one.

"Oh, yes," he laughed as he set Baelfire's ball back up on a shelf where it belonged. "And, um… And who put the key in her cell."

When he turned back to look at her, Regina had gone ashen gray. She groped for the necklace, the ring she'd taken to wearing around her neck lately. Someone was starting to get the picture.

"It's all going to lead to me, isn't it?" He didn't need to respond, only smile. "You bastard," she growled. "This doesn't make any sense. You and I – we've been in this, together, from the start."

"Oh, have we?"

"You created the Curse for me. The Curse that brought us here and built all this."

Not strictly true. He'd never used those words exactly, though something like them perhaps. In truth, it was more along the lines of the opposite. He'd created her, his monster, for this Curse. He'd seen a loophole, and he'd exploited it. And she never learned. He wasn't anyone's ally. This was all about Baelfire, which was why he wanted to find more information on Mr. Booth and leave Regina to her misery.

"Yes, it's about time you said 'thank you.'"

"Why did you do it?" she asked almost sadly.

He smiled. Why had he done this? Why had he gotten her to cast the Curse? Why had he hidden Kathryn away? Why had he conspired against her? "Well, you're a smart woman, Your Majesty," he growled, stepping closer. "Figure it out."

He didn't wait for a response. Just walked into the back room. A few seconds later, he heard the bell chime, indicating Regina had left. Good riddance, as far as he was concerned. He had other things to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but still fun. We get to see that Rumple is still reeling from August's visit, that he's starting to put two and two together to make four. The problem is that he isn't realizing just yet that it's not two and two but rather two and three, thus leading him to make wrong conclusions later on. Wrong and painful...
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, Bellado02, and Ingers123, for your comments on the last chapter. Yes, I understand some of the dread surrounding this episode. This episode was always hard to watch, and then that made certain aspects of it harder to write. I mean, I get his reasoning, they check out on August's side, but it's a nasty little plan he has going here. I don't know; to hurt someone physically is awful. To hurt their heart, though, it just never really sits well with me. Anyway, thanks for going on this journey with me through this episode. There's another short chapter up next. That's just what happens when Rumple is at the forefront. We get lots of little snippets that add up instead of major scenes that make for stirring and wonderful chapters. Hopefully, you understand that by now. Peace and Happy Reading!


	47. A Sudden Plan

After everything that had happened today, the last place he wanted to be that evening was at Mary Margaret's apartment. Emma had planned a party tonight for her homecoming. Even though she'd actually been released the night before, she'd wanted her to have a night of normalcy before being shoved in front of half the town. But he suspected there was more to it than that. Emma seemed like someone to face challenges head-on, not to run from them but rather conquer them. After everything that had happened to her dear roommate, he imagined she wanted to help her get the "gawking" stage over with. There was no doubt in his mind that people would stare at her over the next few days, he was sure that when she returned to work next week, her own colleagues would watch her with suspicion, but by inviting people over and into the apartment, Emma took care of some of that for her all at once. It was smart. And also a waste of time for him.

However, if he wanted to uphold his cover as Mr. Gold, accepting Emma's invitation seemed like the thing to do. So he'd arrived, mostly because it was polite. They hadn't wanted him there; when the invitation came from Emma, she'd made that abundantly clear. But, if he was completely honest, the feeling was mutual. He was here because it was the cordial thing for Mr. Gold to do and nothing more. He didn't actually want to be here, or at least he hadn't wanted to be. Not until he'd arrived. And then things had changed quickly.

When he'd received the invitation, he'd made plans in his head to stay for no more than thirty minutes. He'd eat a bit of food, have a little bit of punch, and then politely excuse himself so he could go home, drink some whisky and consider August Wayne Booth a bit more. And then he'd stepped inside the apartment and saw who was gathered there; Emma Swan, the dwarves, a few other teachers from the school, Henry, naturally, Archie and Pongo, Red…and one Mr. August Wayne Booth. The man of the day.

Strange. He knew that he'd been spending time with Emma, but why he'd come to a party for Mary Margaret…it was odd. He couldn't figure out why he was there unless he was trying to potentially court Emma. However, odd as it was to see him there, it was also incredibly convenient for him.

The second he registered his presence, the second he saw the sheriff and Mary Margaret and Ruby and finally Granny all in one place, he'd had a remarkable revelation. He wanted to know more about Mr. Booth, about who he was or who he could be. What better way than to search through his possessions as he suspected Booth had attempted to search through his own. And right now, his room at the bed and breakfast was beautifully unoccupied while the sheriff and the B&B staff were all very occupied.

But for how long? He'd come to the party halfway through, and Granny had been late too. She and her granddaughter here meant that they would be leaving soon because the diner and Bed and Breakfast couldn't be left unattended for too long, which meant that if he wanted to do something with this opportunity, it had to be quick.

"Hey. I have something for you," he looked up, pulled from his inner planning by Henry. Nearly everyone else at the party gathered close when Henry smiled up at his teacher. He had a large paper card in one hand and a silver-wrapped box in another that chimed when he moved too much, no doubt the windchime he'd bought earlier.

He smirked, realizing this might have been the first time he'd seen grandmother, daughter, and grandson all together for the first time. Three generations all in one room. Of course, none but Henry actually believed that, but it was almost impossible for him not to make a note of it when they stood beside one another. Didn't they realize they all had the same chin?

"Well, thank you," Mary Margaret sighed, taking the card and opening it. "'We're so glad you didn't kill Misses Nolan…'" she read awkwardly.

"It's from the whole class, and I got you a bell," the boy smiled proudly, even as Mary Margaret winced before looking back at him.

"Thank you. Tell everyone I'll be back soon."

"Okay."

"Hey, Henry, we should get you home before your mom finds out. That won't be pretty."

And that made this a perfect time to leave himself. Emma, busy with Henry, trying not to be discovered, hurried to return. It was perfect. If he left now, he could have a solid five to ten minutes in Booth's room alone, for sure, so long as he fetched what he needed from the shop quickly. But when he turned to head for the door, he was shocked to find Emma closing the door on her father, David. He overheard the quick arrangement that Emma made for Henry to go home with his grandfather, though she didn't know that, and set his jaw when he realized that it meant Emma would be staying here.

It was fine. Not as perfect as it could have been, but fine. Emma might not be busy doing something else or even be across town, but if she was determined to stay here, then that was good. If he left now, he could still bank on at least five minutes. But…since he had the Savior so perfectly backed into a corner…he may as well talk to someone about Booth.

"Hard to let him go, isn't it?" he commented, wondering for a brief second at the look on her face if maybe she felt something for David like she did Mary Margaret. Perhaps there was that parental bond reaching through the cracking and fraying Curse. But there was no need to expose it now. "Your son…"

"Yeah," she answered swiftly. But then she approached him, her face hardened, and her entire demeanor changed. She was angry. Good. "Pretty much the hardest thing. Speaking of something we weren't talking about, was it you?"

"Was what me?"

"Did you make Kathryn suddenly materialize? Cause it sure played that way to me. Was that the magic you were going to work? Because if you kidnapped that poor, innocent woman, just to let her go-"

"Are you proposing I'm working with Regina or against her?"

"I don't know. Maybe, diagonally."

Smart girl. Very smart. A woman worthy of her title. It was too bad that when it came to intelligence, he still had the upper hand, right along with decades of experience she could never make up for. She'd never figure it out. And if she could correctly channel that anger toward Regina, then by the time she figured it all out, it wouldn't matter. She'd have other things to worry about by then.

"Well, you keep working on that one. My question's about something else. What do you know about him?" he questioned, motioning to Booth, who was busy chatting with some of the dwarves as well as Archie. Jimnny and the Dark Haired Stranger were comfortable…another point for the Seer.

"Goes by August," Emma answered honestly, which surprised him because he'd been expecting a bit more trouble from her given their previous comments. "He's a writer-typewriter wrapped in an enigma, wrapped in stubble. Why?"

"He was poking around my shop today. August Wayne Booth. Clearly a false name. If there's one thing I know about its names."

"Writers go by pseudonyms. What does it matter?"

"You trust him?"

"Yeah…a lot more than I trust you."

She left the conversation at that and walked away, straight to Booth, actually. Probably to tell him that his ears should have been ringing. He was fine with that. If the conversation kept two of the four people he was most worried about at the moment busy, they could talk about him all they wanted. He had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this chapter turned out...well...it's not my favorite. Seen Scenes that have a lot going on in them are challenging to write because they're not always focusing on the person you want them to be at the right point. You have Rumple, who is obviously out of place at the party, throwing shade at August, you have a couple of tiny interactions with the other guests, August and Henry talk, Henry and Mary Margaret, and then, of course, the brief conversation Emma has with David before we finally circle back around the August and Rumple. And, of course, in order to accomplish what comes next, Rumpe pretty much has to get out of there right away. Don't get me wrong; I like writing group interactions just as much as I like writing one-on-one interactions. But something like this isn't a group interaction. It's like 4-6 one on one interactions all happening at once in one chapter. I did my best with it.
> 
> Thank you dearly, RolfB, for your comments. Next week we're getting to the bottom of August Booth and Rumple, so prepare for these chapters to take a bit of a darker turn as we carry on! Hard to believe there are only a few more weeks left! Peace and Happy Reading!


End file.
